


A New Strain

by Silex



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Dubious Consent, F/M, Infected Characters, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Other, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6396772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of RE5 in which Wesker realizes that the Uroboros virus will never give him the results he wants and instead turns his attention to a more gratifying project: What to do with Jill Valentine? Everything about her repulses him, yet at the same time she's everything that he wants. Jill quickly learns that as bad as she believed her situation to be, Wesker has ways of making it far worse, all in the name of improving her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Strain

Jill had been Wesker's test subject and unwilling accomplice for enough time that she was sure she'd seen the worst he was capable of, that she'd already been put through the limits of his twisted imagination. She’d had so many horrors inflicted on her and been forced to inflict so many horrors on others that she felt confident that there was nothing left. That had been a failure of imagination on her part, there was so much more that he could do, she simply lacked the depravity to see it.

When Uroboros proved to be a dead end, repeatedly failing to give Wesker the results he had been looking for he had grown desperate. The problem was even the attenuated version he was able to produce using antibodies harvested from her was far too deadly for his purposes. It killed every test subject outright, mutating them beyond recognition into something too unstable to last more than a few hours. The mutations weren't what upset him though, it was that in the hundreds of tests he'd run there hadn't been a single survivor. The Progenitor strain had remained nothing more than a deadly curiosity and so he'd returned to the relatively safe and predictable T-virus. This left her unnecessary, but he'd kept her around as a plaything, much like how he kept Excella around despite his obvious contempt for the heiress.

Over the months that followed Jill had realized, much to her horror, that Wesker had other reasons for keeping her around. She was more than just a trophy, something that he had stolen from Chris. He had a genuine interest in her, and not just as an experimental subject, though that was a large part of it. Thanks to the P30 her strength and endurance had surpassed normal, human, limitations. She was still no match for Wesker, but he enjoyed ordering her to spar with him because she was the only one who could provide him with any semblance of a challenge. He forced her to push her limits further and further, having her continue until she was utterly exhausted and then pushing her until the point of collapse. Then, when she recovered enough to stand, he'd force her to examine the results with him, which involved standing naked in front of a full length mirror with him as he pointed out what was going on with her body. He would note how bruises and cuts were healing, commenting on their progress and reminding her of how the injuries were inflicted, point out how scar tissue was forming around the P30 pump, as well as any perceived flaw or noteworthy defect. Then he would move on to detailing her ‘development’, how she was still building muscle or losing body fat. Sometimes he would state the obvious, that she had stopped menstruating, as though it was a good thing, and then ask her humiliating questions that she had no choice but to answer. He loved asking about her libido, which was nonexistent for obvious reasons, and if she experienced any pleasure as he ran his hands over her body to 'test muscle tone'.

She had the feeling that humiliating her gave him more pleasure than actually touching her and observing any changes, no matter how slight, was what excited him the most.

Her worst suspicions were confirmed when he revealed that in addition to the T-virus work he had her assisting with, he was working on something special for her. A little 'pet project' as a reward for how much she’d helped him.

He would tease her that way, carrying on leading conversations to make her say what he wanted her to so that he could give nonanswers to questions that she hadn't wanted to ask in the first place. The only good thing about whatever it was that he was working on was that, since it was a surprise for her, he worked on it alone and called on her to help him in the labs less and less often. Of course that meant that when he put her through her paces and humiliated her afterwards he would drop subtle hints about what he was working on, trying to get her to ask him about it. She kept silent as best as she was able, which only drove him to greater efforts. He was very much like a cat playing with a captured mouse in that respect.

The game had continued until he revealed, with great pride, that he'd finished his gift to her, a special, modified strain of the T-virus. He proudly showed her the vial full of red liquid as though he expected her to be impressed.

She laughed in his face, surprising herself with the fact that she was able to do so. There were times when the P30 had less of a hold on her than others, which usually meant that Wesker would be increasing her dose yet again.

He gave her a look of mock disappointment and asked her what was so funny.

Again she laughed, asking how he had managed to forget that she was immune to the T-virus, there was nothing that it could do to her. After all, that was the reason he’d kept her around in the first place

The conversation that followed would be forever etched into her mind as the point at which she learned that it was absolutely true that no matter how bad a given situation was, it could always get worse, always.

"Oh dear heart," he smiled. His words and tone chilling her to the bone. It was the same way he spoke when he was forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, "I haven't forgotten. This is an enhanced strain made to enhance you. To be truthful, it's not really even the T-virus anymore. I'm just calling it that because it amuses me to do so. You'll understand in time, once you see what it does to you."

Then he made her hold out her arm so that he could inject her.

Afterwards he'd blotted the blood from the injection site and kissed her on the arm.

"Soon," he whispered.

It was the first time he'd done anything that was remotely intimate to her. Even his 'physical examinations' had been carried out with a sense of detachment.

She spent the rest of the day confined in the cell where he kept her when she wasn’t assisting him in one way or another or being put through her paces in a session of exercise and humiliation, outwardly impassive and inwardly dreading whatever was about to happen to her, but other than soreness at the injection site there was nothing.

The next morning she'd woken up expecting the worst, but after painful scrutiny there was nothing, or almost nothing. It did look like there was the faintest shadow of a bruise on her arm where Wesker had stuck her with the needle, but nothing more. Maybe Wesker had been wrong, maybe she was immune to his new virus as well.

Not long after she woke up Wesker came to her cell and opened the door, “Get up.”

With no choice but to obey she stood up as he looked her up and down, scrutinizing her for any visible changes no doubt. He didn't seemed disappointed by the lack of noticeable developments which started her worrying all over again.

“We’ll be sparring today,” he said sharply.

She followed him to the room in the facility that he had set aside as his personal gymnasium. Jill had no clue what the original purpose of the room was, but he had modified it to fit his needs. When they arrived he closed and locked the door behind them, she had the feeling that it was to keep Excella from intruding as the heiress had gotten increasingly clingy, trying to keep near Wesker at all times as though proximity would help prevent him from growing tired of her and discarding her now that he had more or less taken over one of the research facilities belonging to her company.

The moment the door clicked shut Jill knew what Wesker was going to order her to do, but she made no move to act before the command came. It was a small act of defiance, but it was all she had left.

“Remove your shirt.”

For reasons known only to him Wesker preferred to workout shirtless and had her do the same. It had frightened her at first, but over time she grew numb to it. She’d quickly figured out that there was nothing sexual about it, nothing ever seemed sexual with Wesker, not even when Excella was clinging to his arm, making eyes at him. There wasn’t much time for her to think about such things though, once they started sparring in earnest all of her attention was on not getting beaten half to death and maybe, just maybe, getting in a few hits of her own.

Normally when the sparred she started out strong, any hits she got in were landed at the start, after which she was forced to move to the defensive. This time was no exception, at least not until Wesker started taunting her. He did that from time to time, when he thought she wasn't giving it her all. It had reached the point where she was able to tune it out, but today day was different. It infuriated her beyond all reason, making her drop her guard and take two punches that she otherwise might have blocked, one to the stomach and one to the side of the head. Either one would have been enough to send her reeling on any other day, but she was too worked up, too pissed off and she struck, hitting back. It had been a wild swing and wouldn't have connected if not for the fact that Wesker hadn't been expecting it. He followed up by backhanding her across the jaw and her last though before blacking out was that she'd managed to bloody his nose. After years of torture she'd managed to make the bastard bleed.

It was a memory to treasure.

When she regained consciousness she was on her cot, locked in the cell that she spent most of her free time in. The P30 meant all she could do was wait and wait she did. It was something that she'd gotten very good at. Replaying the memory of punching Wesker in the nose helped pass the time, his look of shock, the line of blood dripping down to his lip. She had a feeling that it was something she would spend a lot of time going over, not that it was a bad thing, there was little enough else for her to do when she was alone and remembering the past hurt too much.

She might have fallen asleep, she might have simply been daydreaming, there was little to differentiate the two states any more. All she knew was that Wesker returned, ordered her down to his workout room and put her through her paces in the hardest session of pushups, sit-ups, pullups and weights that he had ever forced her to endure. When it was over she was vomiting up bile, but he still made her stand in front of the mirror so she could look at herself, pale, shaking and drenched in sweat.

Her hair tie had fallen out during the workout and to look at herself in the mirror as she had been ordered to do she had to push her hair out of her eyes. The sight of it, the same bleached white it had been since she had first woken up as Wesker's slave, made her wince. Her muscles were swollen from the exertion, almost grotesquely so. It was hard to her to look, but thanks to orders from Wesker she had no choice.

This time he said nothing, just looked her over with a small, unreadable smile.

The next day was a repeat of the previous, as was the day after. The only words he spoke were orders, no explanations.

Finally, on the fourth day, she gave in and spoke first, asking the question he'd been waiting for, “Why?”

"Because the more stress you're put through at this stage of things the better the results should be," was his smiling answer. He'd been saving that answer up for days and he had more, if only she were to ask, which she refused to do.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, not when given time she would find out on her own.


	2. New Developments

By the end of the week she was able to see the results for herself.

Her muscles stood out with a definition that they had previously only possessed right after working out. She wasn't even able to fully zip up the form-fitting suit Wesker had made for her, which left her only slightly less exposed than Excella was when she went walking around the compound. She had no idea how Excella did that, walking around in next to nothing and still acting utterly in control of everything.

Color had started returning to her complexion as well, though the color was gray. The bruise on her arm had darkened and grown and overall she'd taken on an unpleasant, grayish pallor. It made her white hair stand out even more and made the whites of her eyes look yellowish. When Wesker had her stand in front of the mirror it was her eyes that caught her attention and she spent a long time looking at them, wondering if she was seeing things or if the difference was real. Would the yellow tinge darken, spread until her eyes were red and animal like Wesker's? She hoped not. If that happened didn’t know what she’d do.

It was funny, in a pathetic way, how her eyes were her biggest concern, not the rest of it. They had hardly changed at all or at least no more than they had when she first woke up. They were still pale, washed out looking, everything else though…

The daily workout sessions continued as did the changes.

After a week and a half and the results were impossible not to notice. Wesker would have her stand naked in front of the mirror and it was hard for her to look. Her muscles bulged beneath gray skin, their definition like something out of an anatomy textbook. There wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere on her body, her butt didn't even jiggle when she turned around. It was all hard muscle, everywhere. Wesker had even needed to adjust the positioning of the P30 pump, the growing muscles of her chest having spread her breasts apart to the point where it wasn't secure between them anymore.

And her breasts...

It was hard to tell with how much her muscles had expanded, but it looked like they were shrinking. The stared at them, trying to figure out if it was her imagination or if the changes there were real.

"Jill, pay attention to what I'm saying," Wesker interrupted her morbid self-examination for something even worse, "I was pointing out the drastic changes to pigmentation, especially here."

He stopped to squeeze one of her nipples. His examinations had become increasingly intimate as the changes progressed, whatever lingering detachment was vanishing. He was right though, her nipples had darkened, standing out a deep slate color against the gray skin of her chest.

"And I'm curious about some other changes as well, they should be starting soon as well," he knelt down and had her spread her legs slightly.

Wesker made her keep herself clean shaven, but she didn't really pay attention to what she was doing any more, it was just one more thing that she had to endure under his command.

He made a small noise of disappointment, "Nothing yet, or at least not as much as I'd hoped. There's still plenty of time though."

He was lying, the smug bastard was lying. Now that he'd made her look there were changes and they were so obvious that she wasn't sure how she'd missed them. Her clit was huge, at least twice the size it had been and blatantly visible.

She gasped, eyes riveted on the sight between her legs. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure that she was sure he would get if she said anything or cried out in horror, but it was a struggle.

He straightened up and smirked at her, "You're free to get dressed now."

Getting her suit back on had become more and more difficult, it was too tight across her shoulders. As she squeezed herself in Wesker watched, arms crossed, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how she wanted to wipe that smile away. The next time they were sparring...

She smiled at the thought and Wesker's smile grew larger.

"Stop," he said suddenly, "That's not going to do, not anymore. Wait a moment and I'll see what I have."

He left and she took advantage of the opportunity to look at herself more closely.

Her proportions had visibly changed, her shoulders looked wider and, in contrast, her hips seemed narrower. Her abs stood out in a proper six-pack, something that she would have sworn was impossible and below that her clit was nearly half an inch long. Hands shaking, she carefully pulled back the soft folds of skin covering it, which had changed in some subtle way, and saw its tip, a darker gray than the rest of her skin. It was disgusting, but she couldn't look away or stop her examination. It also seemed more sensitive and when she let go after hearing footsteps coming up behind her its tip remained visible, a little slate gray nub.

Wesker returned and handed her a bundle of folded clothing without comment. It was hard to tell, but she thought that she saw his eyes flicker downwards for a moment.

The clothing was all black, a short sleeved t-shirt and a pair of dress slacks. They obviously belonged to him and the idea of putting them on revolted her. Wearing something that he had worn, letting it touch her skin was like letting him touch her and his touch had changed in a way that disturbed her.

He seemed to sense this.

"Go on, see how it fits," he urged gently.

Was it her imagination or did he sound excited?

Having no choice, she got dressed. The shirt and slacks didn't fit terribly well, but they fit better than what she'd been wearing previously had.

"That should do for now," Wesker laughed softly, "And it is an improvement, don’t you think?"

She hadn't been imagining it.

The walk back to her cell was agony. Every so often the fabric of her slacks would brush against her erect clit. It was pure torture, simultaneously pleasurable and disgusting.

Wesker lingered at the door, looking in at her as she sat down on her cot. She refused to make eye contact, instead staring fixedly at the wall. Feeling more exposed than she had when she was naked, she crossed her legs, which only made it worse. Grimacing she spread them apart. That seemed to have been what he was waiting for because he nodded and closed the door.

As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded she stripped naked and threw the clothing in a pile on the floor. Her cell was too small to pace so she threw herself down on the cot and stared at the ceiling. Wearing Wesker's clothing had left her feeling dirty, it reminded her of the way, when she and Chris had spent time together she would sometimes sleep in one of his t-shirts. Thinking of Chris seemed to open the floodgates on a part of her that had been locked away for safety. Once she thought about him, about spending time with him, she found herself remembering what it had been like when he made love to her. The smell of his skin, the taste of his kiss, the way he was so gentle with her, like he was afraid that she might break. They hadn't done it nearly enough, time and work hadn't allowed for that. She could remember his touch though and thinking about it she began to masturbate, fingers parting soft folds, thumb rubbing her stiff clit, enjoying the first pleasure she had in a long time. Maybe things weren't so bad, rediscovering good memories meant that there was still hope left, that just because she was turning into a monster didn't mean that she was going to lose herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to all the people who have left Kudos and Comments. It really gives me the drive to keep writing.


	3. Intrusive Thoughts

The next day Wesker skipped the workout and had her strip down right away. Instead of beginning with cataloguing the changes, her increased muscle mass, her skin turning gray and the rest of it, he went straight to the humiliation.

"In light of your physical developments have there been any accompanying mental changes?" he leaned in, eager.

"No," her reply was too quick.

He latched onto it, like the B.O.W. he was biting into a piece of meat, "Really? No changes in mood? Apatite? Libido? Have you at least experienced any intrusive thoughts?"

"No, no, no..." she trailed off, thinking of what she'd done the previous day. That was a mistake, it got her thinking about Chris. Specifically it got her thinking about Chris shirtless. He didn't workout half naked like Wesker did, but after showering he'd walk around his apartment totally naked, even when she was there, especially when she was there. The reason he did it in the first place was because he knew she liked it. That was also why he let her watch when he worked out. She loved watching the muscles of his arms and chest tense and bunch, and then massaging the tension out of his back and shoulders afterwards. Most of the time he was too tired to make love to her afterwards, but the watching and then showering together afterwards was enough for her. Maybe she had a bit of a voyeuristic streak, but sometimes watching him lift weights was enough to get her off. He knew it too, he'd tease her about it, that she'd leave him if he didn't stay in shape, didn't stay as big as he was. She wouldn't though, she loved him too much.

"Really?" Wesker smiled, "I think you're lying about the last one."

Looking down she fought back a sob of horror. Her own body had betrayed her, the nub of her clit was clearly visible, sticking out more prominently than it had the previous day.

He leaned in like he was about to touch her and that thought was more than she could stand.

Clenching her fist she took a swing at him. He nimbly darted back, but she followed though, pursuing him across the room, grabbing him by the shoulder and -

"Stop."

She froze, shaking with effort as she tried to resist his command, even as a he took the remote control he always kept on hand to send a double dose of P30 flowing through her veins.

"Let go," his voice was flat, calm, dangerous.

Gritting her teeth she tightened her grip and was rewarded by another double dose. The pain was intense, she'd never been given so much in such rapid succession, but it only served to further enrage her. How dare he do this to her? Make her a slave and then, when that wasn't enough, a monster?

"Let go!" he repeated more forcefully, yanking his arm free of her grip to punch her in the stomach.

With a grunt of pain she let go and staggered back until she hit the mirror. The glass was cold against her back, soothing the molten fire running through her veins. She was able to manage one step forward before the P30 took hold, though its hold was tenuous at best.

"I think we can also note that you're displaying increased aggression and possibly diminished impulse control as well," Wesker smiled, grabbing her by the shoulder and forcing her to her knees so that he could look down at her, "We'll need to increase your dose of P30 well above what it’s been at."

Another dose brought gray creeping in on the edges of her vision.

"Sleep."

She didn't exactly obey that command so much as it was a combination of pain and being utterly overwhelmed that caused her to pass out.

When she woke up she was laying on a table in one of the compound's numerous operating rooms. Wesker was standing over her, smiling.

The P30 pump had been replaced by a much heavier looking piece of hardware. The basic pump was there, albeit a much larger one, hooked in by numerous barbed struts, housing tubes that kept a steady flow of the drug running through her system. The skin around it was dark and inflamed, but there was very little blood. Wesker could manage very neat work when he wanted to.

"As I was removing the old pump I saw that it wasn't sitting the way it was supposed to," he offered in an unasked for explanation, "Its legs weren't anchored properly anymore and one of the needles had come free. You'd outgrown it dear heart, but I designed this one so that there'll be plenty of room. And when the time comes it had chambers to house all the additional compounds that will be necessary to regulate things as time passes. Right now you're fine, but eventually we'll need to worry about inhibitors to prevent uncontrolled mutation."

"What?" her voice was harsh in her ears, making her wonder how long she'd been out for and if he'd had a breathing tube down her throat. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd woken up in that situation. What upset her more was that he'd baited her into asking him a question.

He put a hand on her shoulder, the new higher dose of P30 preventing her from flinching away. Until now she hadn’t realized how much its effectiveness had faded. Now that his control of her was once again total she regretted not having tried to do anything to take advantage of the earlier situation.

"Modified as it is, it's still a derivative of the T-virus with all its mutagenic effects," he shook his head, "It was necessary to get the results that I was looking for. We'll just have to take the good with the bad, though rest assured, the majority of it will be good."

"You're turning me into a Tyrant!" her voice broke half way through the accusation.

Wesker shrugged, "Not exactly. Maybe something similar, but superior, just like the virus I infected you with. It's perfect and soon you will be too."

He ran a hand down across the side of her face, an expression uncomfortably like longing in his red eyes.

When she had trouble getting dressed he helped her and she was unable to refuse or push him away. Instead she noted that the clothing he had given her to wear was fit slightly better than it had the previous say. The shirt no longer hung loosely across her shoulders and the slacks sat better across her waist and hips even without a belt. Even the shoes he’d given her were fitting better.

Because she was turning into a Tyrant, a giant, mindless monster.

She'd already been a B.O.W. for years, even when she was still human, now she just looked the part.

Wesker walked her back to her cell and left her alone with her thoughts. They turned to Chris, wondering how he was doing without her. Had he found someone new? The thought of him with another woman filled her with sadness, but it was possible. They'd both known that death was a very real risk and he might have moved on. She might have done the same if he were the one who had died. It was a fact of life in their line of work and it wasn't as though she wanted him to mourn over her forever. Both of them were too practical for that.

She looked down at her hands and saw that they had changed along with the rest of her, they looked larger, the fingers thicker, though that may have been due to the number of times she'd broken them punching Wesker too hard while sparring. It wasn't as though she should hold out hope that Chris might come and rescue her, not when she was already halfway to being a monster. Even if treatment could stop it, reversing what had already happened would be impossible.

Sadness started to give way to anger and she decided to abandon that line of thought, instead she tried to remember the good times. There hadn't been as many as she would have liked, but they were all the more precious for it. Unfortunately thoughts of good times turned to thoughts of making love. Her clit practically throbbed, aching for attention at the recollection of Chris eating her out.

Sighing, she began to masturbate, not because it felt good, but get it done with and clear her head so that she could think of other things. It worked too, even though it felt all wrong, all the sensation came emanated from her clit, when felt strange between her fingers, too large and hard, even its shape was wrong.

She fell asleep thinking of Chris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, things have started to get weird here, but don't worry, much like Wesker I know exactly what I'm doing. Unlike Wesker I know exactly how this story is going to end.


	4. An Unexpected Conversation

Wesker had her continuing with workouts that felt more like torture sessions. She was lifting more, managing more reps, than she had ever before and, because she had been thinking about Chris so much lately, she realized that she was managing more than he ever had as well. It was terrifying, she was stronger than Chris, but still nowhere near as strong as Wesker and Wesker, unlike her, still looked human. Even if Chris were to come to her rescue he wouldn't stand a chance and with the P30 he wouldn't be fighting Wesker alone. Wesker would force her to fight alongside him and between the two of them, even if she resisted and tried to hold back, Chris wouldn’t stand a chance.

Halfway through the session Wesker left without explanation. He did that from time to time, and like each past time he gave her the order to finish the rep she was on and then do one more. As soon as he was gone he slowed down, glad for the chance to take it easy. All she had to do was finish, she didn't have to do well.

Once she was done she went to the showers.

Excella was there, waiting for her. She was wearing a sundress that covered far more than the dresses with plunging necklines she typically wore, though to balance that out it was clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

"Don't mind me," the heiress laughed bitterly, "I just wanted to see for myself."

Jill ignored her. She and Wesker hadn't been getting along lately and previously during such times, Excella had relieved stress by taking it out on her.

"He's so proud of you," Excella spat.

Jill turned on the water, hot as she could take, and let it wash the tension out of her muscles. She took great care to keep the area around the P30 pump clean, terrified of what would happen if an infection of any sort set in there. It was strange, despite being much heavier and secured in more places the new pump was easier to ignore. Or maybe she was getting used to it, though how large a gauge the needles were frightened her. The needles and pump were nothing compared to what was beneath it though, her chest. The old pump had rested between her breasts, but they were gone now, replaced by slabs of muscle. There wasn't even the slightest hint of jiggle left.

Excella was still there, watching her like a hawk. Compared to Wesker she was easier to ignore, staring at her with scorn rather than rapt attention, and it was far easier to meet in kind.

The moment she turned the water off Excella threw a towel at her, "Here, cover yourself."

She caught it and glared at the heiress, "What do you want?"

Like yesterday her voice broke, leaving her coughing, trying to clear her throat.

"It figures he would," Excella waved a dismissive hand, "Be proud of you that is. You're all he ever talks about any more."

"Really?" Jill growled, not meaning to, but that was how the word came out. She was worse than she'd thought.

Excella rolled her eyes, as carefully calculated a gesture as anything Wesker did. It was no wonder the two of them hated each other, they were the same person, "I should have figured it as soon as I realized he wasn't interested in me for anything other than my money and the resources I could offer him. You’re the one he wants."

It was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. She'd been at Wesker's mercy for how long and he'd never tried anything, "You're even dumber than you act."

Her voice broke again before settling back into the growl that she'd managed earlier.

Excella arced a perfect line of an eyebrow, "And that," she pointed at the P30 pump, "Must have rotted your brain if you haven't noticed what's happening to you."

"I've noticed," Jill took a step forward so that she was looming over Excella. She'd always been taller, wider across the shoulders as well, but now the difference was even more pronounced. The heiress was lean, graceful, her dress flowing over her and clinging to every curve. Jill fought back feelings of jealousy at how effortlessly beautiful Excella could be, all it took was money and utter lack of shame, two things she'd never had.

"Really?" Excella mimicked her earlier question, reaching out to touch her. Jill raised her hand and Excella pulled away, "But you haven't added it all up?"

"He told me already," Jill didn't like the sound of her own voice. It didn't break again, but it sounded all wrong, "He'd making me a Tyrant."

"No," the heiress snarled, "That’s not what I’m talking about. How long have you been a pet and he's not tried anything? How different is he acting now?"

So that was what she was getting at and in that Excella might have been on to something. Wesker had been getting increasingly hands on with his observations lately. What had changed other than her?

When she didn't reply Excella continued, "He's a faggot."

It took her far longer than it should have to realize that Excella was serious. Despite herself she had to laugh at the absurdity of it, "Just because he's not interested in you and hasn't tried anything with me doesn't mean anything."

"He hasn't tried anything yet," Excella countered with a sly smile, "But the way he's been talking about you lately, it's only a matter of time and with that," she pointed at the P30 pump as though her meaning wasn't explicitly clear, "There won't be anything you can do about it."

"If you're right and he wants me," Jill laughed mirthlessly, "Then he isn't gay."

"Have you looked at yourself lately?" the heiress laughed back, "No normal man would want you."

"Since when has Wesker been normal?" she countered only to immediately regret the comment. It sounded like she was trying to argue against what Excella was saying about Wesker while remaining open to the idea that he might be interested in her. That was the last thing that she wanted to consider.

Excella shrugged as though she didn't care, "He managed a passable job at first, didn't he?"

Little as she liked it she had to agree there, "Yeah."

She finished toweling off, paying careful attention to her hair. Since Wesker had infected her with whatever special virus he had made for her she hadn't needed to shave once and she had worried that the hair on her head would would start falling out, but so far everything there seemed good. There hadn't even been any more strands than normal caught in the shower drain.

Her agreeing seemed to have caught Excella off guard, for she kept quiet for a time, not speaking until Jill was dressed.

Excella looked her up and down, in a manner not dissimilar to the way Wesker did when she was naked before throwing her hands up in the air in an exaggerated gesture of helplessness, "You wear it better than he does."

"Thanks?" Jill wasn't sure if she was being mocked or if Excella was trying to compliment her. The woman had been acting increasingly strange as the months went by and, if she were to be honest with herself, Jill was glad for the chance at conversation where she wasn't being ordered or goaded into responding in specific way.

"Don't thank me," Excella snorted, "Look at yourself in the mirror."

It was an order, and one given strongly enough that she had to obey. She didn't have the same compulsion with Excella that she did with Wesker, but it was there and her curiosity had been piqued.

She went to the room with the mirror and Excella tagged along.

As Excella had said she looked at herself, really looked. It was the first time in as long as she could remember that she'd looked at herself fully clothed. When she was naked, looking at specific changes as Wesker ordered her to do so, she only noticed isolated parts of her transformation. Dressed she was able to see it as a whole and the difference was alarming.

Aside from her hair and eyes, her reflection was unrecognizable. No, maybe the shape of her nose was similar, but that was all. Her lips were much thinner and her jawline was all wrong, more angular, stronger looking and that was just her face. With the rest of her there was nothing familiar. With the shirt and slacks covering any telling features Excella was right, she did look like a man and even if she were shirtless she had the feeling that it wouldn't be much better.

"Why?"

She hadn't realized she'd spoke out loud until Excella responded.

"Why would I know? Next time Albert comes to call on you ask him for yourself and then tell me when you get the chance. I want to know too. I bet you I'm right."

Giving Jill one last smile she stormed off.

Suddenly finding herself with free time and nothing to fill it Jill went back to staring at her reflection, trying to make sense of it.

"Impressive, don't you agree?"

She hadn't heard Wesker enter the room until he spoke up. How long had he been watching her?

Tensing, she turned to face him.

Wesker stood in the doorway, his sunglasses off. It was something she had noticed, when it was just the two of them he tended not to wear them, "I saw Excella on my way here. Did she come to give you a hard time?"

"She..." Jill started, then stopped herself. Something about the whole conversation felt incriminating. She didn't care for Excella and Wesker couldn't exactly make things any worse for her, but she held her tongue, "She's a stupid bitch."

If Wesker noticed her slight pause he gave no indication, "She has her uses, but yes, I suppose she is."

Maybe he was in the mood for conversation and for once she would be willing to give it to him without prompting, not because Excella had asked her to, but because now she was curious as well.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's a reward," he walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. She wanted to think that he was just feeling the muscle there, but the gesture was disturbingly possessive.

That settled it, he had been showing more interest in her, and not just as a thing to torment.

"There's more to it than that," she eyed him suspiciously. That she was able to do as much indicated that, even at the higher dose he had her on, the P30 wasn't as effective as it should have been. She would have to remember that, see if she could find a way to use it to her advantage.

Wesker seemed to realize the same thing, pressing the button on the remote to give her a bit extra before continuing, "Maybe there is."

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

In a single instant all her worst suspicions had been confirmed. Excella had to be wrong, of course, but Wesker suddenly wanted her and there was no telling how far he would take things.

He said nothing more after that, walking her back to her cell in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the last chapter were both short so I decided to post two chapters this week. Also I couldn't wait to get this chapter up since it's Excella's first appearance and she's so fun to write.


	5. Continuing Developments

That night there were no dreams of Chris, just of killing Wesker. She woke up in the middle of one of them, her clit hard and throbbing, sticking out far enough that she could actually feel the thin sheet of her bed rubbing against it. Her breasts ached, though it was more of a phantom pain she decided when she rubbed at her chest. They were long gone by this point, all she could feel was muscle and her nipples, hard and begging for attention almost as badly as her clit.

What was wrong with her that dreaming about killing Wesker had her just as turned on as thinking about getting fucked by Chris? Then again, if she were to be honest with herself most things got her turned on now. It was like she was caught in a constant state of arousal, even during her conversation with Excella it had been there. She'd tried to pass it off as envy when she was looking at the woman's curves, but there was more to it than that. She'd wanted to grab her and push her against the wall of the shower and overpower her. The thoughts had been more violent than sexual, but the effects were the same.

In the morning Wesker's arrival came as a relief, giving her something else to think about, like how the shoes he'd given her no longer fit as well and even the shirt he'd given her was getting too tight. It had gone from being too loose across the shoulders to too tight. She could hear the sound of seams popping when she moved her arms. Wesker had watched her dress with rapt attention, red eyes almost glowing with excitement.

"We'll need to see about getting you something new to wear," he said, unable to conceal the pleasure in his tone, or maybe he didn't care, "You're outgrowing my hand-me-downs dear heart."

She clenched her fists at the last word. In the past he'd called her that a few times, always mockingly. Now he was using it as the term of endearment that it was. What had changed? The answer was obvious, she was a monster now. Maybe as a B.O.W. himself that was what Wesker was into, other monsters. Late at night he probably watched the licker colony in the basement and touched himself, or went to the labs and jacked off over petri dishes of his latest super virus.

Why were all her thoughts either violent or sexual lately? Previously she'd at least had control of her own mind, but now even that seemed about to betray her. It had to be the virus.

"Calm down," he assisted her in that with another dose of P30 before walking over to her and lifting her shirt to tinker with the P30 pump. He spent several minutes working on it, checking to make sure that it was attached properly and opening valves to increase the flow. She could feel it working, the strange feeling of detachment, like her body was on autopilot and she was just there for the ride, returning. After what she'd endured in the past few weeks it felt good, a relief.

Wesker finished adjusting the pump, but his hands lingered on her chest, tracing the contours of her muscles, down across her abs, "Beautiful."

His voice was a breathless whisper, his hands were on the waist of her slacks, deft fingers unbuttoning her fly.

Her pants fell down to her ankles, Wesker's gaze was fixed on her pussy.

No, not her pussy, her clit, which was soft for a change, his touch apparently working to kill her ever present arousal. Or maybe it was the P30, it and stress had killed her desire in the past so maybe getting a stronger dose was enough to do the same even now. How terrible was it that she hoped that was the case?

Wesker was staring at her clit, a small smile playing on his lips, "Good, we're finally starting to see some progress."

He was toying with her, humiliating her. To have missed everything up to this point he would have had to been blind. Though flaccid, her clit was at least as long as her thumb and about as thick around. When it was hard, because now when she got turned on it got hard, it was noticeably larger.

Gently he pulled back the hood of skin covering her clit, the action a reminder that it had changed as well, and revealed the tip of her clit.

"Yes," he ran a finger along the top of it, "Definitely progress. Look."

Even without looking she knew what he was talking about, how her clit had developed a distinct head and shaft, something she had noticed while touching herself the previous night. Maybe Excella was right.

She watched in silence as Wesker continued his examination. The P30 made it easier to fight the urge to ask the questions running through her head, which was a good thing. She could tell that Wesker wanted her to say something so that he could gloat and she was happy to deny him the satisfaction. Small rebellions were all she could manage.

He didn't stop though, he continued playing with her clit, running his fingers up and down its length, feeling the way the skin covering it moved and occasionally giving it a little squeeze. To her horror she began to respond. She could feel the blood rushing to it, making it throb and grow with each beat of her heart. Her own body was betraying her yet again, giving in to Wesker's ministrations. That wasn't the worst part though, the worst part was that it felt good enough that she didn't want him to stop. But he did, leaving her thoroughly erect and utterly unsatisfied.

Like all previous days, Wesker supervised her workout, but skipped the humiliating examination in front of the mirror for something far worse. He followed her into the shower.

"Strip," he commanded when she hesitated to undress the rest of the way.

She removed her slacks and he did the same.

It was the first time she'd seen him fully naked and she was honestly unimpressed. The terror that he inspired had long ago worn thin and she was able to observe him in the same clinical way that he used to watch her. In that at least their roles had been reversed. Wesker was muscular, but lean, something she'd never found attractive. She also realized that his apparent lack of body hair wasn't just due to his being blond, it was obvious that he shaved, probably part of the reason he had her do the same. Pathetic. He was hardly half the man that Chris was. If it wasn't for the virus running through his bloodstream, granting him inhuman strength and reflexes, she'd grab him and beat him within an inch of his life and then leave him to recover, only to do it all over again, just like he'd done to her so many times in the past. Her clit, which had started to soften, twitched at the thought. She could feel it getting hard again.

Wesker noticed her staring at him and she turned away, devoting her full attention to washing off.

To her surprise and relief Wesker did the same, washing and toweling off, then getting dressed without comment. At least until she finished and got dressed as well. It took her longer because she had to dry her hair, but Wesker had waited. The whole time she'd been terrified that there would be a repeat of what had happened earlier. Terrified, and maybe hopeful.

Red eyes burned into her as she put on her slacks.

When she tried to pull the t-shirt on it ripped at the shoulders, seams that had been strained to their limits finally giving way. She'd needed to walk shirtless back to her cell in an act that was as thoroughly humiliating as any of his examinations.

As he opened the door for her she noticed something else, she was now taller than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was late with this one. I'm doing another double chapter update to make up for it.


	6. An Unexpected Visit

In a pleasant change from Wesker opening her cell door and ordering her out of bed he woke up on her own for once. She rolled over on the cot, wondering if she should try and fall back asleep, but that didn’t seem likely to happen. Now that she was awake she could feel her clit rubbing against the sheet, her legs pressing against it when she shifted position. It was getting too big to ignore and it wasn’t like there was anything else for her to do other than lay still and think. Masturbating would at least give her something to do and thinking about Chris was a lot more pleasant than waiting and dreading whatever it was that she would be put through today. Even if Wesker caught her in the act it wouldn’t be any more humiliating than anything he’d already put her through.

She wrapped her fingers cautiously around her clit because that seemed to be her only option. It had gotten too large for her to just rub at. How large and hard it felt caught her off guard, but she wasn’t going to lift the sheets to look, instead she slid her hand up and down in a motion that was oddly familiar, though she couldn’t place it. Maybe rubbing a cleaning cloth up and down along the barrel of a gun?

Just as she had found a rhythm that worked someone knocked on the door. Wesker never did anything like that and never would.

Whoever it was knocked again, louder, and then waited. Did they want to be invited in or something?

"What?" her single word response was more of an exclamation of shock at the change in routine than an actual question. She gave her clit one last stroke, wondering she’d be lucky and whoever it was would go away and let her finish.

“Good, you’re awake.”

It was Excella.

“Does Wesker know you’re here?” Jill asked, then cleared her throat. Her voice seemed to have settled into a new, deeper tone overnight. It had lost the growling edge, but it wasn't her voice.

"He's out doing god knows what," Excella snapped. "And I do not need his permission to walk around a building that I own."

Jill would have laughed at how petulant she sounded if the P30 would have allowed her to. Instead she hurried to put on her slacks to help hide the evidence of what she'd been doing. In her defense she'd been bored and there wasn't anything else to do, but she'd rather die than let Excella see that she'd been pleasuring herself. If Excella left without opening the door she'd probably pick up exactly where she'd left off, but she had the feeling that she wouldn't be so lucky.

Sure enough, just as she finished buttoning her fly the heiress barged in.

"Wesker really has made a mess of you," she commented as soon as she saw Jill.

If there'd been anything that Excella hadn't already seen, anything to see, and if the P30 had allowed her to she would have pulled the thin blanket off her cot to cover her chest, instead she stood there shirtless, waiting for Excella to actually give her or an order or leave.

"Sit down," she pointed at the cot, "I don't like you looming over me like that."

It was true, her continued growth had made it so that she towered over Excella. Even the slacks Wesker had given her were starting to get too short.

"What do you want?" Jill sighed as she followed the order.

"To talk. Is that too much to ask for?" The heiress didn't wait for a response, "The way Albert acts, yes."

The way she said it made Wesker's first name sound like profanity.

"So talk," Jill growled, shifting position to try and find a way to sit so that the fabric of her slacks wouldn't keep brushing against her painfully erect clit.

Excella took a step back towards the door, "You are so much like him. I will never understand people like you."

Jill kept quiet, wondering if Excella would get bored and leave if she didn't say anything.

"What does Albert talk to you about?" Excella gripped the door frame, "He never talks to me anymore. He used to be all talk, power, immortality, beautiful things. None of that anymore, nothing."

"The same," Jill answered, realizing that if she didn't respond Excella would likely keep talking at her until she'd had her fill, Wesker would do the same thing when the mood struck him. To the two of them it seemed more about having an audience than a conversation, "Nothing."

"What does he have you work on in the labs with him? He won't let me help," the heiress continued to press her for answers, information.

"I don't know. He hasn’t had me help him once since this started," she gestured at herself, "Even when he did was basic stuff, taking cultures in and out of incubators, pipetting samples back and forth, putting test tubes of who knows what in the centrifuges. That and cleaning is all he ever has me do."

Excella snorted dismissively, "A waste then. When we talked and he talked about you I was always hearing how clever you were. Even before he desired you he wanted you."

Jill crossed and uncrossed her legs, an action not lost on Excella.

"How bad is it?" the heiress looked at her hungrily, desperate for any information or confirmation that someone was worse off than she was.

"You're the one who told me I was a mess, what do you think?" Jill snapped. Even at the higher dose she was one there were still times when it seemed to wear thin. Maybe its control was tenuous enough that she'd be able to grab Excella by the neck and shake her until she stopped talking.

"I think you’re starting to lose your hair," Excella reached up and touched her own perfectly styled hair, possibly to reassure herself that she had nothing to worry about.

No, Jill decided, she wasn't going to strangle Excella, she was going to grab her by the wrists and squeeze as hard as she could. Strong as she was now she could probably do some serious damage that way. That would stop all the waving and gesturing.

Jill surprised both of them by standing up.

In response Excella did the last thing that Jill would have imagined happening, she strode forward until she was inches away from Jill.

"You don't scare me," she punctuated each word by jabbing a finger sharply against Jill's chest, right under the P30 pump.

"Then you're an idiot," Jill grabbed her by her outstretched arm and lifted her up off the floor.

Excella hung there, glaring at her with a look of such intense anger, not hatred, but simple anger. There wasn’t even a hint of fear in the heiress’ eyes, something that Jill decided was impressive. During the times she had been in similar situations she had at least been slightly nervous. Maybe Excella didn't realize the danger that she was in.

"Let go of me," the heiress' voice was flat, deadly calm. It would have meant more if killing her wouldn't have been so easy. Throwing her against the wall would be letting her go, had she considered that?

"I said let go of me."

No, she clearly hadn't.

The heiress’ dark eyes narrowed and she brought her free hand back.

She couldn't possibly intend to do what it looked like she was about to try, but she did. Swinging with all of her might she slapped Jill across the face.

It was all noise, no pain, at least not for her. Excella on the other hand winced and shook her hand before repeating the futile gesture.

Jill shook her and in response Excella slapped her again.

"This is your last warning," Excella hissed.

When she went to swing Jill caught her hand effortlessly. She then brought Excella’s arms together so she could hold both of them with one hand.

Jill drew back her free hand, fist clenched. Now it was her turn.

Excella knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Here," she turned her head and tilted her chin up, inviting the blow that would surely break her neck and shatter her skull.

It was the last thing that Jill had imagined would happen. She'd been certain that there would begging, or screams, or threats. She'd at the very least expected Excella to invoke Wesker as though his name would have power over her, but she didn't.

Jill let go and Excella fell to the floor in a graceless heap. The heiress scrabbled to her feet and smiled at Jill, her anger seeming to have evaporated in the time it took her to straighten her dress, "That was fun. I would join in when you and Albert brutalize each other, but I would break a nail."

Excella held out her hands, showing off her perfectly manicured nails, even and shining.

The whole thing was so unexpected that Jill felt her own anger fading

"I could teach you how to throw a punch," she offered, not sure why she was even suggesting the idea. Excella was obviously crazy, probably a side effect of being born rich.

"And I could teach you to be a woman," Excella sighed and shook her head, "But there’s no reason for either of us, is there? It’s too late for anything to matter."

Jill wanted to ask her what she meant about it being too late, but Excella had already turned to leave.

Rolling her eyes she stared at the door, wondering about the events that had transpired.

In the past she and Chris had often joked about the stupid things they'd do if they had the money, cars and firearms that they'd buy, what kind of house they'd live in, the exotic places they'd go on vacation, but meeting Excella had made her wonder about what it was actually like to have money. The woman had everything, but she was willing to devote everything she had to whatever mad scheme Wesker had sold her on. How pathetic did a person have to be to go along with something like that?

Thanks to her Jill realized that her boredom was cured. Miserable as it was, she had to admit, it was better than sitting around and playing with herself.

Wesker didn't return until late that night, and when he did it was only to bring her dinner. The portions were getting larger and containing far more protein. It was probably only a matter of time before he was bringing her chunks of raw meat. He stayed to watch her eat, never saying a single word, just watching her every move.

As he left she thought she heard him whisper a single word, 'soon', but it might have been her imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Excella really fun to write, mostly because of how little she was developed in the game itself. It means I can have all sorts of fun with her as a character.


	7. Misery Loves Company

The following morning Jill once again woke up on her own. She hoped that it was because Wesker was losing interest in her the same way he had with Excella, but she knew it was far more likely that whatever he was working on had him too busy to spend time tormenting her. It was something she wanted to be glad for, but couldn’t because its implications were ominous. Everything Wesker did was ominous and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sitting up in bed she stretched and looked down at her pillow. Excella had been right, she was losing her hair. A dozen fine silvery strands lay on her pillow. When she combed her hair there would be more and when she showered she would watch still more wash down the drain. The sum of her continued changes had stopped terrifying her and become something to endure. She didn't like them, but there was nothing she could do about any of it, or at least most of it.

Smiling wryly she looked down at herself and saw that, just like every morning, her clit was rock hard, the dark tip visible. It seemed to grow over night, veins becoming more and more prominent across its surface. She knew exactly what it looked like, but she tried not to think about it because it supported Excella’s theory. Taking it in her hand she guessed that it was probably about four inches long now. It was hard to tell and honestly, she didn't care. Its increased size made what she was about to do easier.

Closing her eyes, she thought of Chris, or killing Wesker, maybe Chris killing Wesker. That seemed like what was going to do the trick today, her holding Wesker down while Chris beat him to a bloody pulp. Afterwards Chris would take his shirt off, because he always wore a shirt when working out, and they'd go shower to wash away the blood. She'd force him up against the wall, pinning him there and pressing against him, feeling his cock hard against her. There would be a struggle as they each worked to force the other into position and it would end with her impaled on his cock, riding him.

Wesker was probably right about increased aggression and diminished impulse control, but she’d had no control over anything for so long it was hard to care.

Her breathing grew harsh, her heart hammering in her chest as she imagined forcing Chris to the floor, bouncing up and down on his cock. He'd struggle against her, trying to escape, but he wouldn't be able to, even though she was still human, still lean and graceful, still a woman. He wouldn't escape because he wouldn't want to.

Tension built within her and she made no effort to hold back, instead she redoubled her efforts, thrusting into her hand, feeling the smooth skin of her clit sliding back and forth until she climaxed. The moment was as intense as it was fleeting and afterwards she collapsed back onto the cot. It groaned beneath her and she realized that it was likely only a matter of time before she outgrew it. Already it was harder and harder to get comfortable.

What a way to start the morning, jacking off, because that was pretty much what she had just done, just to feel relief, however short lived it might be.

Movement outside her cell interrupted her thoughts and she opened her eyes, expecting to see Wesker looming over her, red eyes shining as he'd finally caught her in the act.

Whoever it was outside knocked and tapped their foot impatiently.

"Are you decent?" It was Excella again, of course it was Excella. Who else would it have been if it wasn't Wesker?

"No," Jill said as she rolled off the cot and fumbled for her slacks.

"Tell me when you are," the heiress sounded different, some of her usual arrogance absent.

She pulled her slacks on, shaking her legs to try and get them to fit right and failing. They were a full size too small now for her, possibly more, "I'm done."

Not exactly true, she still had to brush what was left of her hair. If she was going to be honest with herself, it had reached the point where she probably should just shave it all off and be done with it because it wasn’t like it was going to stop or get better, but she wasn't ready for that final humiliation yet.

"It's a lost cause," was Excella's greeting as she walked in, canceling out whatever good her waiting to come in had done.

Jill was about to comment or maybe throw the brush at her when she noticed how Excella was dressed, a simple yellow blouse and fairly sensible looking slacks. She was even wearing shoes with no heel. Even more unusual was that instead of her usual, perfectly arranged style, her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Still, Jill was sure that every piece of the outfit was stupidly, excessively expensive because Excella wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe that was what made her so utterly shameless, once you spent more than a certain amount on shoes you crossed some sort of line and stopped acting like a normal human being.

"Don't stare," the heiress flicked a dismissive hand at her, "Albert has matters to attend to, something to do with that rat Ricardo wanting to be paid differently or more for his services, so I volunteered to watch over you today. He wants to keep you on your routine, whatever that is, because it's important at this stage of things, or some nonsense like that.  And I decided to take you up on your offer, you can teach me how to throw a punch. It's useless, but it's something to pass the time."

So what she was seeing was Excella's idea of appropriate clothing for working out. Not commenting was a challenge.

"We're going to the gym then," Jill spoke carefully, not wanting to unintentionally poke fun of Excella and set her off. It would be fun, but Excella's decidedly lax handle of things might prove more interesting if she didn't antagonize her.

Jill went through the motions of the routine Wesker typically had her follow, because the P30 and his orders wouldn't let her do otherwise. Excella watched in silence, at least at first. Just as Jill was wondering if she would be able to cut things short Excella walked over to the weight rack and started looking at what was there. It seemed like things were about to get interesting.

Excella ran her fingers over the weights, several times acting like she was about to try and lift one of them, only to shake her head and jerk her hand back.

"Do you want to try or something?" Jill offered, not sure herself where she was going with things.

Excella looked at her, managing a halfhearted look of scorn, "No, I don't want to end up like you."

It was the most absurd thing Jill had ever heard, "It'll take a lot more than lifting weights to end up like me."

"That's what you say," Excella laughed mirthlessly, "But even before Albert started anything you were not a normal woman. I've heard plenty about your accomplishments."

"From Wesker," Jill spat, not wanting to think about what might have been said about her.

"From the news," Excella retorted with equal contempt, "You are famous you know. The BSAA's made a martyr of you."

The comment stung. If any of her previous coworkers could see her now they would have shot her on sight and she wouldn't blame them one bit. If Chris saw her in the state she was in... No, she wasn't going to think about Chris, not now.

"You know it's funny," the heiress continued, having found her stride, "You work so hard to bring an end to the industry you own everything to. No, don't say anything, hear me out. Before you worked for the BSAA you worked for Umbrella. That's where you got your start, most of your training, even met your husband there."

"Chris and I aren't married," she snapped, not sure how to respond to anything else that Excella had said.

Excella arced an eyebrow, "Really? Good for him then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jill dropped the weight she was holding and prepared for a repeat of the previous day. This time she wouldn't bother stopping herself.

"Nothing," Excella spread her hands in mocking despair, "Just that when this all falls apart and they come after Albert and me and then find every useless thing he's been working on with my money, including you, at least your Chris will be spared that indignity."

Excella was making to too easy. One punch to the face, right to the nose and that would be the end of all her condescending talk.

"Of course they won't know until after the fact, when the vultures start going through the files to see what they can scavenge. By that time you'll be dead, shot down like an animal. And you know what? You're lucky for it!" Excella snarled, the venom in her words enough to make Jill hesitate, and the heiress wasn't done either, "I'll still be alive and ruined for it. Tricell, my life, my everything, all over. There will be a trial of course, a show trial where I get paraded out like an animal for them to spit on my name, my accomplishments and I'll have to take it all. If I'm lucky the trial stays here and when it's over I get hanged or shot or whatever it is they do with criminals here. If I get sent back home I'll rot in jail for my whole life, an example of why not to get involved in the biomedical industry. Except everyone else is doing the same fucking thing. I know because our supplies didn't come from nowhere and there certainly was a market for what we produced. All shell companies, plenty of plausible deniability or whatever it is the jackals in legal called it, but I know who's backing them."

Amazing, she was looking for pity while ignoring the obvious. Jill had to point it out to her, "You could have stopped at any time."

"Do you hear yourself?" Excella clenched her fists and stood up straighter, mirroring Jill's actions, "This didn't start with me. By the time I took over Tricell already had a sizeable portion of its budget devoted to the exact sort of research taking place here. If I said anything I'd be incriminating myself. Cleaning up and sticking to legal ventures wasn’t ever an option. We'd go into a death spiral, losing clients, labs, whole research teams, and money, so much money. Recovering wouldn't be possibility, investors would jump ship even the ones that didn't know the reasons for anything. And that's what would happen if I tried to keep things a secret. If I went into the open about it I would effectively be burning my company to the ground along with myself. Maybe that would be doing the right thing, but what comfort would that be while I rot away in prison for life? Do you even know what the laws in Italy are like relating to the production and manufacture of B.O.W.s and associated viral agents?"

"So you kept at it?" Jill rolled her eyes, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. If Excella really wanted to die that badly she was doing a good job of setting up to get what she wanted, "Throwing your lot in with Wesker to see what that would get you?"

"Albert offered me a way out," Excella stomped her foot, the picture of righteous indignation, "Everyone in the industry was in a panic after Terragrigia. It was a warning, a taste of what was to come. Vaccines were the big thing at the time, like printing money and just as illegal because of the agents we had to work with, and they were always for the last virus, the most recent near miss. Yes, the BSAA was running around being heroes and ignoring the obvious. You can stop every outbreak except one and that one that you miss will make all your successes nothing. It was only a matter of time before things fell apart one way or another. When Albert came to me it was with the promise that when it all came down in pieces I'd end up on top. It was all lies of course, but you worked for him, you know how good Albert is at that sort of thing."

The worst part was that Jill could see how it almost made sense. She could see where Excella was coming, having been fighting the same battle on the opposite side. She and Chris had been offered countless opportunities to take a step back and get promoted into desk jobs or positions off the frontlines, but they'd turned them all down, despite the fact that they'd both reached the age where they should have been easing up and slowing down to let others take the risks. They hadn't though and while she couldn't speak for Chris, she knew why she'd done it. Each time she considered taking a desk job or stepping into an advisory position she thought fearfully about what the next day might bring. If something happened and the BSAA wasn't able to stop it in time would it be because she wasn't there to help? As long as she was there, actively fighting against whatever it was, everything would be okay. She and Chris had been partners long enough that she felt it was safe to assume that he felt the same way. Yes, they had wanted to get married, settle down, have kids, but what if that kept them from saving the world the one time it really mattered? How much worse would the possibility failure be if they had a family to worry about? Excella's reasons were purely selfish, but were hers that much less so? Looking at things that was Jill had to consider if she was really arrogant enough to think that she and Chris were the only ones protecting humanity from certain extinction.

Excella was looking at her with a smirk, as though she knew what was going on in her head.

"I'm not sure," Jill sighed at last, "I think you might be even better at it than Wesker."

The heiress smiled as though it was a compliment and maybe to her it was, "Remember, for what it counted I was one of the most powerful and influential women in the world. Technically I still am, not that it means anything right now. And I still expect you to teach me how to throw a punch."

The woman really did have a death wish, but Jill was able to stop herself from giving the most direct demonstration possible.

"Alright, you know how to make a fist," Jill started and immediately realized that Excella didn't. The way she was holding her arm was all wrong and what she was doing with her fingers was even worse, "Just look at the way I do it."

She held out her hands and demonstrated, trying not to dwell on how much larger her hands were than Excella's and how thick her fingers were. She’d already gotten used to the grayish tinge to her skin so ignoring that was easy.

Excella watched attentively and promptly repeated everything she'd done wrong the first time.

"No, open your hands and watch what I do," Jill slowly curled her fingers in, amazed that it was necessary to go over something so basic.

The heiress' next attempt was slightly better, but it was still awful.

"Why are you keeping your fingers so loose? Is it really that hard for you to curl them in tightly?" Jill was just about ready to take Excella's hand in hers and guide her through the motions.

"Yes," Excella answered as though it were the most obvious thing imaginable.

"Why?" Jill said, gritting her teeth and trying to remain patient.

"My nails," she showed off her perfectly manicured and polished nails and then turned her hands palm up to show the little crescent marks where they'd dug in to her skin when she tried to close her fingers into a fist.

Amazing. Jill was utterly speechless, what was there she could possibly say to something like that? Trying to do anything about it was pointless since the whole effort was purely academic anyway. There was no harm in settling for Excella's best attempt and showing her how to hold her arm so she wouldn't hurt herself and actually put some weight into the motion.

With the parts she could actually manage Excella wasn't all that bad and after throwing a few experimental punches at nothing Jill held up her hands, one backing the other, "Hit me."

"Are you going to hit back?" Excella's expression was guarded.

Again Jill was almost too stunned to speak. After all she'd said and done, now she was worried about getting hit, the one time that there was utterly no risk of it?

"I won't hit you."

Excella threw the most feeble, punch imaginable, far worse than any of her practice efforts.

"I said I wouldn't hit you," Jill growled in exasperation.

The next attempt was nearly as bad as the previous.

Jill lowered her hands, "What are you afraid of?"

Excella shrugged, "Nothing."

"Then why aren't you trying? Yesterday you didn't have any trouble slapping me across the face," Jill was getting frustrated enough that she was ready to call the whole thing off before she killed the heiress.

Another shrug, "Yesterday I was angry at you, today I'm not."

Jill could have screamed, would have, if not for understanding the logic behind that statement perfectly. It was just like how you'd get guys who could stare down hunters and lickers without flinching, but the instant they ended up against something that looked even remotely human they fell apart. She'd actually met a Special Forces guy who was utterly fearless against anything except zombies. For no reason that he was able to explain they freaked him out so badly that he was next to useless when dealing with them.

"How about you pretend you're hitting Wesker then?" Instead of bringing her hands back up, Jill simply tensed, and waited.

Excella's next punch was far better and must have had considerably more effort behind it than it felt like because the heiress staggered back after hitting her in the stomach, eyes watering.

"It would probably be just like that," she moaned, "Like hitting a brick wall."

Despite herself Jill smiled. Maybe after all she'd been through she was just desperate for human contact, but she couldn't help thinking that if circumstances had turned out differently she wouldn't have hated Excella so much. The heiress was evil, petty and irredeemably selfish, but she seemed totally without fear.

"I'm done," Excella winced and massaged her hand, "Do whatever you want and then meet me in the kitchen for lunch."

The day's workout hadn't been enough for her to actually work up a sweat so what she ended up doing was following Excella to the kitchen. On the way they passed a number of majini as well as several of the few remaining human employees of the facility. The fact that there were any of them left amazed Jill, but Wesker had forbidden her from talking to anyone other than himself and Excella so she couldn't find out what made them stay. They all stopped to stare, but Jill was used to that. Even before Wesker had decided to make her a monster she'd tended to draw a lot of attention, there had even been attempts at conversation at first, before her failure to ever respond made her an object of even greater fear and, at times, contempt. A few of them exchanged greetings with Excella though, which surprised her. For whatever reason Jill had always imagined that she treated everyone with silent contempt and that carrying on conversations like a normal person would have been something that she considered beneath her. Of course the topics of conversation that came up weren’t exactly normal.

"Where did you find that thing?" a haggard, older looking man wondered, looking Jill up and down, "I thought Wesker had nixed the Tyrants."

"Around," Excella smiled, "How is your licker colony going? Have you got the males to stop killing each other yet?"

"No," the man said with genuine regret, "Castrating the non-dominant males only means that they get killed by the intact ones. It’s not all bad news though, I was able to get two of the pregnant females separated from the rest though. This time I intend to try and hand rear the whelps to see if that changes anything. With a little luck and a lot of hard work they’ll survive."

"Good luck," Excella nodded, seemingly pleased by what she'd heard, "If you need any help with that I'll assign a few majini to you."

The conversation over, the two of them continued onto the kitchen.

The kitchen itself was a big, industrial affair, meant to make food in quantity for large numbers of employees. When Jill had first been there, before Wesker decided to keep her confined and hand deliver all her meals, it had been full and fully staffed. Now the place was largely abandoned. Excella walked through the nearly empty cafeteria and into the kitchen, ignoring the protests the few men and women sitting around eating made at the sight of Jill. Several of them got up and left when Jill followed her into the kitchen.

There was a pile of dirty dishes in the enormous sink, and several pots and pans on the counters and stoves. Excella examined what had been left out, tossing most of it into the garbage, before she started looking through the cabinets. After the first few cabinets were opened the search for whatever it was she was looking for degenerated to her walking back and forth while slamming doors and ranting in Italian.

Finally Excella threw her hands up in despair, "Albert had you clean glassware in the labs?"

"Yes," Jill had no idea where the conversation was going.

"Good, you wash the dishes. I cannot stand this squalor," she grabbed a pan with something black and flaking stuck to the bottom and stormed out of the kitchen.

Jill did as told, listening as Excella swept through the cafeteria, yelling at whoever was left and occasionally slamming the ruined pan down on tables for good measure. It was all Jill could do to keep from laughing.

Upon returning Excella muttered something in Italian and tossed the now dented pan in the trash. Removing her ever present bracelets and rings she set them on the counter and joined Jill in washing the dishes.

For no sane reason it infuriated Jill. How dare Excella do something so normal, so human as washing dishes?

Throwing the pan she was scrubbing back into the water Jill took a step back from the sink to try and get the utterly irrational hatred under control.

"If there are any of them left feel free to throw a chair, that usually gets them leave," Excella offered cheerfully, "You could probably manage a table if you want. Maybe that will teach them to clean up after themselves."

It was absurd. As quickly as Jill had been getting angry lately, Excella seemed to recover from anger with even greater speed.

When Jill didn't leave Excella started talking, "Back before...Albert started to get rid of staff I'd still come and cook for us. I still cook, only for myself though. He can starve for all I care. I should have known there was something wrong with him when he told me he didn't like wine. What kind of man says he doesn't care for wine?"

Chris hadn't cared for wine, but Jill wasn't about to bring that up. Instead she tuned Excella out and focused on relaxing. Today was the closest thing she'd had to a break since the start of it all. The missions and errands Wesker had sent her on didn't count because of the sorts of things she had done during them. Today it seemed like she would finally have a chance to relax and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Excella was being almost civil to her, something that seemed good for a change, which meant she couldn't help being suspicious.

Finishing with the dishes Excella grabbed one of the larger pots and went back to the pantry. She was there for a long while and Jill considered going back there herself or maybe making a joke about her getting lost. Instead she thought about Excella. She was so petty, so quick to anger. Maybe that was what life was like when you were rich, everything was whim and impulse.

It seemed like a pretty horrible way to live, not that Jill was in any position to judge given her present circumstances.

Excella returned, the pot full of canned and frozen goods, "Nothing fresh anymore," she lined the cans up one by one of the counter, "All cans or frozen. It's like living like an animal."

Jill laughed at that, earning a glare from the heiress.

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't look like a woman who knows anything about cooking," Excella paused to look her up and down, then corrected herself, "You never did."

It was true that Jill had never been interested in that sort of thing, but she wasn't going to let the comment slide, "Like you would. You probably ate at restaurants every night and had a chef to cook for you when you wanted to stay home."

"I enjoy cooking," Excella drew herself up to her full height, which was even less impressive without heels, "And yes, I had several chefs. I had them teach me. You want to know what was funny?"

"What?" morbid curiosity drove her to ask, even though she was sure that the answer wouldn't be funny.

"Jodi, the one of them who was a classically trained French chef, was American."

She'd been wrong, the sheer absurdity of the statement was actually funny. She laughed and Excella joined in. Maybe both of them were equally crazy in different ways and just as desperate for someone to talk to.

Once Excella got started Jill got out of the way, sitting on a counter so she could watch the heiress at work. It was impressive for lack of a better word, she clearly knew what she was doing. Lapsing back into Italian she talked herself through the entire process of whatever it was she was making.

While it simmered she cleaned the counter and every utensil she was done with. Catching sight of where Jill was sitting she started to comment, then shook her head, "You're probably not the worst thing that's been up there."

Jill rolled her eyes and let the comment slide. Little as she liked to admit it, it was obvious that Excella knew what she was doing when it came to cooking. The realization brought with it a stab of jealousy. How dare someone like her enjoy doing normal things? It wasn't fair.

Excella checked the contents of the pot and threw the ladle she'd been holding down on the counter, "It's almost done, but don't get your hopes up. It's going to be the worst cioppino ever made."

"I don't even know what that is," Jill said with a smile.

The heiress smiled back, "Better than what this is. I had to substitute half the ingredients and what I couldn't substitute I had to leave out. I'm ashamed to even say it's a cioppino."

What it turned out to be was a seafood soup. Not knowing what it was, Jill was still impressed by how it turned out. She was honestly able to say that it was the best meal that she'd had in longer than she cared to remember, though when she said as much Excella dismissed the compliment with a bitter laugh.

They stayed in the kitchen while they ate, Excella hopping up on the counter to sit next to her. After they finished Excella washed the dishes and then walked her back to her cell.

As the door closed, locking her in, Jill found that for the first time in the longest time she was able to cry. She wept bitterly without knowing why. It was the first day that hadn’t been torture and it hurt worse than anything else Wesker had put her though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early because I couldn't wait. I probably like Excella way too much.


	8. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

"I heard the two of you had quite the day yesterday," Wesker said, standing across from her, remote control for the P30 pump in his hand, "I think this is a good opportunity for a learning experience. What you did was very dangerous for both of you, for reasons that I don't think either of you fully understand."

Excella was standing just outside the cell, arms crossed, the picture of defiance.

He pressed the button on the remote twice, smiling as Jill winced. It was set to administer a much higher dose now, enough that it left her feeling light headed.

"Excella," Wesker motioned for her with the hand holding the remote, pressing it once more for good measure, "What would you do if I said I were going to lock you in here with Jill for the day?"

"Be bored out of my mind, just like I'd be anywhere," she answered coolly, not even looking in his direction.

Fearless or stupid, Jill had to admire her.

"Get in here."

The heiress started to walk away, "No."

In a flash Wesker was on her, throwing her into the cell, "I don't know what you were doing with Jill, but it wasn't what I told you to do."

Excella scrambled to her feet and lurched forward, swinging a wild punch at Wesker. He caught her hand and, with a single sharp motion, broke her wrist. Jill heard the bones snap and winced inwardly, unable to do anything else. She'd seen worse, done worse under Wesker's control, but it was still painful to watch.

Excella went limp from the pain and would have fallen to the floor if not for Wesker holding her up by her injured arm. She started to scream and in doing so seemed to find some small bit of strength. It was all in Italian, frantic and pained, but clearly full of venom. From the bits and pieces Jill thought she could sort of understand the majority of it was profane and aimed at Wesker.

"Don't worry, I won't lock you in with Jill because I think she might like that," he tossed Excella aside, out of the cell and turned to once again face her, "Jill I don't think you understand. You belong to me. Not to Christopher, not to Excella, to me. You are mine, utterly and completely. I have refined you, taken you from something pathetic and loathsome and elevated you. Soon you will be perfect and that perfection is mine alone to enjoy."

Wesker’s red eyes burned with anger and something else, something even more horrifying. He reached out and grabbed her crotch, "You belong to me."

She expected him to clench his fist, or something equally brutal. What she didn't expect was for him to start gently rubbing her through the fabric of her slacks. He was giving her a hand job.

"I told you he was a faggot," Excella laughed hysterically from the hall.

"I don't care what you think," was Wesker's terse reply to the heiress, "I just want you to remember to never again touch anything that belongs to me."

Through it all he never once looked away from Jill, continuing to squeeze and pull at her clit. The P30 was working to numb her, but despite it she could feel herself starting to get hard.

One hand on her clit, the other on her chest, he pushed her back onto her cot and straddled her. The legs of the cot bowed under their combined weight, but it held.

"Don't try to fight me."

Even if she'd been able to it wouldn't have done any good. He was still stronger than her, the difference was growing less, but it remained significant. She was helpless as he hurriedly removed her pants, popping the button off and tearing the zipper in the process. The indignity was worse than the damage, they wouldn't have fit her for much longer anyway.

Her clit sprang free and Wesker resumed exactly where he had left off.

Unable to help herself, she thrust into his hand, earning a smile from him.

Using his free hand he guided her hand to his crotch so that she could feel that he was rock hard as well.

"You see what you do to me Jill?" he whispered, breathless with rage and lust, "You see why I had to do this to you?"

"No," she said softly, fearfully. She was utterly at his mercy and there was no way of telling what he might do next.

He shifted position and leaned in so close that for a second she was sure that he was about to kiss her.

"You really don't understand?" his breath was hot against her, "Do you want me to explain?"

No, she didn't, but the P30 prevented her from saying so, something that Wesker had to know. It was all part of his game, all part of how he played with her mentally even as he played with her physically.

"The human body, specifically the female body, suffers from a myriad of physical imperfections. Every part of it is flawed in some way and you, exceptional as you may have been before I took matters into my own hands, were no exception. My original intention in capturing you had been to use you as a test subject and perhaps return you to Christopher afterwards, but I didn't. At first it was because of the traces of t-virus in your bloodstream, as well as the unique antibodies you alone seemed to possess," he paused to sit up and unzip his fly, freeing his cock out so that he could guide her fingers around it, "Then it was to test the effectiveness of P30, or so I told myself at the time. The problem was, even then I knew I was just delaying. There was nothing left to learn from you. Uroboros had already proven useless and that had been all you were good for. I finally was forced to accept that I didn't want to give you back to Chris, I wanted to keep you for myself. Can you imagine how that stung? There I was, having surpassed so many of humanity's limits, desiring the summation of all its flaws. It was disgusting, you were disgusting and I was disgusted with myself for feeling as I did about you. Something had to be done, something had to change. Logically I should have simply killed you and been done with it, but that would have been losing you. I did not want to lose you. Revolting as you were, you were mine and I had no intention of giving you up. Instead I decided to make you into something more worthy of my desire."

So Excella had been right, Wesker was gay and had decided to follow his own path of twisted logic and make her into some horrific semblance of a man so he could act on his obsession with her. It also put his desire to torment Chris in a new light and having learned all this all Jill could do was lay back and jack him off while he did the same to her. Her clit tingled and she knew it wouldn't be much longer. She bucked her hips, not in an effort to escape, but to speed on her moment of release. Wesker noted this and slowed down his efforts.

"You're mine Jill and I'm not going to let you get off that easily, not after yesterday."

Wesker was insane, as if it hadn't been obvious before. He was actually jealous of Excella for spending time with her when he'd decided not to. Or maybe it was all part of his game, a final effort to break her, to show that there was nothing that he couldn't take from her. Even the illusion of friendship was beyond her grasp.

Desperate for an end to the torture she brought up the hand that wasn't occupied with Wesker's cock and tried to push his hand off her clit and finish herself. He didn't let her and in desperation she fingered her pussy, as little good as that did. All sensation seemed to be focused in her clit and it was all that mattered. Her pussy was simply there, a mere artifact of the woman she had once been and had no bearing on her reaching climax.

Without warning Wesker released her and pulled away.

"There's something I don't think you realize," he smiled, running his hands over her chest and the P30 pump, "Yes, the P30 is diminishing in effectiveness when it comes to making sure you follow orders, but it serves another purpose as well. It keeps you docile and in that it remains effective. I think that's something you need to experience for yourself. That way you'll understand why you need to continue to obey me, even after the compulsion to do so is gone."

He followed up by doing the last thing she would have expected, something even more shocking than giving her a hand job, he turned off the P30 pump and removed it. The device had not been designed for easy removal and his yanking it away from her chest caused the barbed hooks holding it in place to leave several deep and ragged holes that bled profusely.

Before she could wrap her head around her sudden freedom Wesker had dismounted her and gone to the door in one swift and fluid movement.

"If you'll excuse me I have to go see where Excella has slunk off to. Thanks to you my plans are reaching fruition and I believe it's time for me to see to it that she receives what I promised her. She might even survive to enjoy it."

Having said his part Wesker closed and locked the door, leaving Jill more free than she had been in the longest time while still utterly trapped.

She could already feel the effects of the drug fading, the numbness replaced by a clarity that she never realized was missing until it returned. Her clit throbbed, aching for release and the holes from the P30 pump’s removal stung, but she had more important things to do than worry about either discomfort. For the first time in years she was free to act on her own.

Shaking with excitement she went over to the door and for the first time tested how secure it was.

The answer was very, her cell was in the basement level of the facility, a room designed to house B.O.W.s. As far as she knew she was the only one remaining in the wing, though at the start there had been at least half a dozen Uroboros mutants as well. That had been horrible to endure, having to listen to their gurgling screams and hissing whenever she was locked away.

Nothing had ever escaped during that time, so she knew that breaking down the door wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't sure how strong she was. Maybe strong enough to succeed. She had to at least try.

She knew how to break down an ordinary door, it wasn't actually that hard, just kick it near where the lock was. Given the shape she was in now she'd have no problem doing it, even with a metal door like the one to her cell. Steadying herself she got into position and kicked with her full strength.

Nothing, but breaking down a door typically took multiple attempts. There was no reason for her to expect to manage it on the first try. Yes, the cell was designed to hold B.O.W.s, but she was smarter than a B.O.W., she actually knew what she was doing, it wasn't just mindless flailing.

Several attempts later she had barely managed to dent the door. She wasn't going to give up that easily though, she could keep going, she hadn't even broken a sweat.

Taking a step back to gain momentum she tried again and again. Eventually the door would have to give.

Over time her efforts grew less focused. There were a number of dents in the door as well as the wall next to it from the times when she had slipped.

At least she'd managed to dent the door, which was a sure sign of progress, she just needed to take a break and get focused again.

She sat down on her cot and took several deep breaths, all the while staring at the door. No sense in thinking about how thick the door was, that would only serve to discourage her and she couldn’t even consider giving up, no matter how impossible it seemed.

Sitting felt like a waste of time so she got up and started pacing.

Three steps to a side.

It had been more in the beginning, when she still bothered pacing, but she was bigger now, her stride longer. Or maybe not, maybe she was misremembering things. It had been a long time since she had paced like this, back before she had given up.

She dragged her hand along the wall and it was like she could actually feel how much smaller the cell was.

Except it wasn't.

She was bigger.

Three steps.

Turn.

Three steps.

Turn.

Three steps.

Turn.

Three steps.

Again.

Again and again and again.

The pattern took on a new rhythm. Each time she turned she pulled her hand back and hit the wall.

Three steps.

Thud.

Turn.

Repeat.

It wasn't working. If anything she was getting more wound up with each lap of the room, if twelve steps could even be called a lap.

She sat back down on the bed, hard.

One of its legs bent, sharply.

Now she was sitting at an angle.

She'd broken her bed, but it didn't matter. She was going to get out.

Leaping to her feet she grabbed the cot and threw it across the room at the door.

That didn't help.

She went back to pacing, kicking the cot out of the way each time she passed it. It bounced off the walls, breaking into pieces over time.

Her clit, still half hard, bobbed up and down with each step she took.

She could ignore it.

The blood on her chest was drying and starting to itch.

She could ignore that as well. The rate at which her injuries healed now meant that in two days there’d be no sign that the P30 pump had been there to begin with.

When she reached the wall opposite the door she lunged forward and slammed her shoulder into it. That wasn't what you were supposed to do to break down a door, too many ways you could hurt yourself, but she didn't care about hurting herself. Any injuries she caused would heal. She had to get out and maybe if she put all her weight into it the door would give way.

Each time she hit the door she'd bounce back.

Each time she bounced back she lunged forward again.

Nothing.

She had to calm down.

There was no place to sit so she sat on the floor.

She glared at the door.

There were as many dents on the wall as there were on the door.

She had to calm down.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Between her legs her clit was throbbing in time.

Touching herself she wasn't surprised to discover that she was rock hard. She masturbated to climax every morning now, and a second time in the evening if she was too stressed to fall asleep. Today Wesker had gotten to her before she could start and then hadn't let her finish.

Thinking about killing Wesker, she stroked herself. Her clit was nearly as large as his cock had been and felt the same in her hand. She looked down at herself. Except for size and color it even looked the same, like a cock.

She wasn't going to think about Wesker anymore.

Instead she was going to think about escaping. She was going to have to kill anyone and anything that stood in her way, but that wouldn't be hard. The plaga infested locals were sturdier than a normal human, but only slightly stronger, they wouldn't be a problem. Kill one, take his gun and escape. She even knew the exact way out, she'd been through the place enough to have it all memorized. If Wesker was around getting past him might be hard, but she wasn't going to think about him. She was going to escape and when she escaped...

She would find Chris. How didn't matter, but she would.

She would find Chris and pin him against the nearest wall and kiss him. Then she'd rip off his clothing and cover him in kisses, whether he liked it or not. She was stronger than him so he wouldn't have a choice about it. She was going to suck his cock and then she'd get up and force him to his knees and make him to the same to her. She'd hold him there, her fingers in his hair, pushing his head up and down to make sure he kept the right rhythm. He'd have to deep throat her, run his tongue up and down the shaft of her clit, suck the head. If he didn't like it she'd pull him back to his feet and turn him around, keep him pinned to the wall, press against him so that she could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath her, kiss him up and down his neck and simply admire how handsome he was. She'd rub her clit up and down the cleft of his ass before putting her hands on his lean, muscular waist and then she'd fuck him. Right up against the wall she'd thrust her clit up his ass, right up to the hilt. She'd pound into him again and again until she finally came and then she'd do it all again until Chris was too tired to stand and she was simply moving him up and down her clit, using him just like Wesker played with her.

That was the thought she climaxed to, the idea of letting go of Chris, watching him drop to the ground utterly spent.

Roaring in rage she stood up and resumed trying to break down the door and pacing.

Sometimes she'd lose track of where she was in her circuit of the cell and slam into one of the walls instead of the door, other times she'd pause to throw the increasingly fragmented remains of her cot at the walls. She kept at it until she was exhausted and had to stop. Then, as soon as she caught her breath she'd resume.

She had to escape.

She had to kill Wesker.

She had to do something, anything.

It was all a blur.

Hitting the wall.

Throwing whatever piece of the frame of her cot was nearest.

Slamming into the door.

Rubbing at her clit, which was still hard.

The door opened.

She had done it! She was free!

Except she wasn't alone in the hall, Wesker was standing there holding something in his hand and smiling.

He'd let her out.

His mistake because she was going to kill him.

She charged him and he darted effortlessly to the side, using her momentum to bury the syringe he was carrying deep into her thigh. Then he leapt away, letting her stagger half a dozen steps towards him before whatever it was that he'd injected her with took effect and she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I love Excella and hadn't originally expected her to feature so prominently in this fic. Of course we always hurt the ones we love.


	9. The Tyrant

She woke up strapped to a table, tired, aching, but lucid. Craning her neck she was able to see that the P30 pump was once again in place.

Wesker was standing next to her, tenderly stroking the side of her face.

"You had quite the time before I put a stop to it dear heart. By the time I came down to your cell you’d done enough harm to yourself bouncing off the walls that I decided to keep you sedated for two full days to prevent unwanted developments. You’re approaching a delicate time in the process and I can’t use any form of inhibitor to prevent rampant mutation without risking compromising things," he moved his hand to give her a pat on the shoulder, "I wonder how much of what you did you even remember."

She struggled against her restraints, surprised that she was able to considering the P30 once again flowing through her veins.

"Yes, I've got you on a lower dose. You have free will again, as much good as it will do you," he leaned down and kissed her, not caring when she flinched at the contact, "It's just enough to prevent a repeat of your little tantrum. I want you to watch the security feed from then and tell me what you think."

He gestured at a computer monitor on a table next to her.

On the screen she could see a Tyrant circling a cell, unaware that it was being filmed. There was no sound so she couldn't hear it roaring or the impact of it throwing itself at the walls over and over again. When it hit the wall where the camera was mounted, a pinhole camera hidden in the wall so it wouldn't be found or damaged, the image shook.

"It goes on like this for hours," Wesker commented with false cheer, "So I hope you won't mind me fast-forwarding to the, shall we say, fun part."

The image skipped ahead to the Tyrant staggering back from the door and taking its cock in its hand. Snarling and panting, it jacked itself off and went right back to attacking the walls.

"What do you suppose it was thinking about when it did that?" Wesker smiled, eyes glinting with menace, "Was it even thinking at all?"

Jill watched the screen, too horrified to speak and unable to look away. Bits and pieces of what had happened after Wesker removed the P30 pump were coming back to her, surreal fragments like a partially remembered dream. That couldn’t be her throwing herself at the walls of her cell, but she remembered doing the same. She was sure that she hadn’t been snarling and roaring like an animal though, punching the walls and frantically, unashamedly pleasuring herself.

"It does that several more times over the course of things," Wesker ran a hand down the length of her body, from her neck to her thigh, "Its stamina is impressive to say the least. What do you think Jill? Do you want to take a guess as to what it was thinking about? Or who?"

His expression grew hard, "I was curious myself so I decided to take a walk down and stand outside of its cell. You see I wondered if it was all just roaring, or if it was saying something during any of it. For the most part it was inarticulate noise, but there was one word, one single word that I was able to hear clearly. A name. Who do you think it was calling out for?"

Wesker patted her on the thigh, waiting patiently for a response.

All she could do was watch the B.O.W. on the screen. She couldn't remember much of what had happened, but she more came back to her as she watched. Towards the end she had started thinking about Chris before everything degenerated to a horrifying, disgusting nightmare. One image from stood out, something unthinkable, yet at the same time she couldn’t push the thought from her mind once it came back to her, she had Chris trapped and was brutally, mercilessly raping him. How had she been able to imagine such a thing? It was the farthest thing from what she would do and yet...

"I'd never... Oh god, please that wasn't me," she gasped out, watching as the Tyrant paused to give its cock a few strokes before once again charging the door.

"You were calling out for Christopher," Wesker hissed, "Did you think he was going to rescue you, or were you thinking something else? I believe it was something else, but feel free to tell me I'm wrong. Perhaps after all this time you still believe that you need to be rescued, that you need him to save you. You’re wrong of course, your darling Christopher isn’t worthy of the perfection I’ve given you, wouldn’t understand it if he saw it."

There was nothing she could say. If she tried to argue he would know she was lying and she didn't want to think about what he might do.

"Good," Wesker’s anger seemed to evaporate, false cheer returning as he gave her clit, her cock, a gentle stroke, "I suggest you stop thinking about him and instead consider that I take away the only thing that keeps you yourself and not that," he nodded towards the Tyrant on the screen.

He really could take everything from her, not even her mind, her sanity was her own to keep.

Wesker continued to stroke her, carefully pulling back her foreskin to reveal the slate gray head of her cock, "Beautiful."

He leaned down and to her shock and disgust his tongue darted out as he licked her cockhead, just once, the touch so light it was hardly there at all, "If you're good, if you behave, I might do more. Think about it Jill, how flattered you should be that I'm willing to fellate you. On the other hand, if you don't behave I can render you a ravening animal at any time with the press of a button. You could even walk out of here and I wouldn't need to stop you because you could only get so far before your supply of P30 ran dry."

He was right, every word he had said was true. Wesker had loosened his hold on her, instead putting it all in her hands. She was free to make decisions and act on her own as long as none of it displeased him.

Giving her one last lick he straightened up and released her from her restraints.


	10. Excella's Paradox

A week had passed since Wesker had freed her. During that time she had tempted fate by attempting to seek Excella out and hadn't been surprised when her search proved fruitless. Wesker was as good as his word and the heiress was most likely dead or a monster locked away on some part of the facility that she didn't have access to. All because in the end Excella had decided to be kind to her, or at least less cruel than she had been in the past. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about what had happened, but she did, just like she felt guilty about all the atrocities that Wesker had forced her to commit. Excella was different though, special because unlike all the others, who had blended together into so many screaming voices begging for mercy,  Excella had a name and some sense of familiarity. All the others haunted her dreams when she slept, but Excella haunted her waking moments as well.

With nothing else to do and unwilling to return to her cell, which was still in shambles, Wesker having decided not to give her a replacement for the cot she had destroyed, she wandered aimlessly through the halls. The majini ignored her and the researchers hurried away when she passed. Wesker must have let them know that she wasn't some escaped B.O.W. because none of them actually panicked at the sight of her, they just hurried to get away. She was free to talk to them, if she wanted to, but she'd decided that she didn't want to know why any of them were there, besides, she didn't hate any of them enough to risk attempting to befriend them only to have Wesker kill them in a jealous rage. The man was remarkably petty, something that she was only just beginning to realize. At least he hadn't made followed up on his offer to suck her cock because she was positive that she'd have to accept or risk him taking away the P30.

As it was the dose he had her on was low enough that there were times when she could feel herself slipping. She had to pay attention to her thoughts constantly. That was a large part of the reason why she spent as much time as possible on the roof. With no one else around there was less of a risk that she’d act on the violent impulses that came out of nowhere and giving into the other urges that overcame her from time to time was less humiliating that way. She still felt horrible afterwards because of the things that she’d been thinking about at the time, but trying not to think about it only meant that she couldn’t think of anything else which would start a self-perpetuating cycle.

Wesker had stopped forcing her to work out or assist him with anything, because as he put it, he was too busy with success so close at hand, but it wasn't a relief. It simply meant that there was that much less for her to do when she no longer even had the option of fantasizing about escape. Wesker had made it clear that if she were to walk away he’d do nothing to stop her, that the P30 pump had enough in it to get her to the closest town that wasn’t controlled by majini, but not much farther than that. If she wanted to stay human she could stay and obey Wesker. If she wanted to truly become a monster she could leave or try and stop him. The choice was in her hands, not that it was much of a choice at all. As long as she remained alive she could at least pretend there was hope, but that meant willingly staying with Wesker.

In the early morning and evening she would go up to sit on the roof of the facility and watch the water. It was peaceful, relaxing and it let her pretend that she actually was free. Otherwise she would do everything she could to avoid the researchers. Part of it was humiliation, Wesker hadn't given her anything new to wear, leaving her naked, and part of it was fear that she might find out what had happened to Excella or what Wesker was working on. She knew that she should try to stop him, but if she failed he'd take away the P30. Even in the unlikely event that she was successful it would still mean the end of her supply of P30, which left her stuck in what she had taken to thinking of as Excella's paradox. It was a situation where the outcomes of success and failure were virtually indistinguishable and equally horrifying to the point where surviving became the only goal to strive for.

So she spent her time alone, hoping that the whole matter would be taken out of her hands by someone else stopping Wesker. The BSAA had to be closing in on him, an operation like what he was running couldn’t stay hidden forever, especially not when each day more of the researchers were leaving. Someone would have to talk or let something slip eventually.

Late at night the exterior of the facility was too brightly lit for her to see any stars so she watched the bats circling, catching the bugs that were drawn in by the lights. There was no reason for the rustling of their wings and the high pitched squeaks they made to be relaxing, but it was.

If she wanted to look on the bright side of things she could consider the fact that she seemed to have stopped growing, some things having grown more than others. She was probably about seven feet tall, maybe a few inches more, and rippling with muscle. Her clit, or her cock because that was more or less what it was now in appearance if not function, was about four inches soft, six hard, and it was hard more often than she would have liked. The last of her hair had fallen out, even her eyebrows, leaving her eyes, washed out looking as they were, were the only thing left of who she'd been when she was still human. Wesker had told her that she wasn't a true Tyrant, but she honestly couldn't see the difference.

The sound of a door opening, footsteps on the roof behind her.

There was only one person it could be and, much like her, they were only a person in the loosest sense of the term.

"What do you want?" she growled without turning around. Even her voice was unrecognizable, a resonant growl that would be deep even for a man.

Wesker laughed, unmoved, "I have a gift for you."

She tensed expecting the worst. If, when she turned around to look at him, he had his cock out she was going to try and tackle him off the roof and hope that this time they’d both die from the impact, or at least she would, unlike the first time.

To her relief, or perhaps disappointment, he was fully clothed, carrying a bundle of folded clothing and a pair of boots that looked big enough to actually fit her.

He placed held them out to her and she took them. They were all black of course. The pants and shirt were made of some heavy, probably tear-proof material and the boots were sturdy, thick soled, steel-toed affairs. Exactly what a Tyrant would wear, all that was missing was the trench coat.

"Irving has finally agreed on the form his final payment will take. You'll be bringing it to him tomorrow, likely in the usual place if he hasn't managed to attract the attention of the BSAA," Wesker smiled at her, relishing the way she tensed at the mention of the organization that she'd once been a part of.

He watched her get dressed, helping her adjust her shirt over the P30 pump, and smiled at the results, "Tomorrow I'll give you the rest of your outfit. Oh and don’t spend all night sitting up here again. I don’t care how little sleep you need, you’ve got a big day ahead of you and I want you well rested."

She stared wordlessly at him until he left, then she went back to watching the water.

Until Wesker had mentioned him Jill had honestly forgotten about the smuggler. Before she’d met whatever end Wesker had devised for her Excella had mentioned that Ricardo Irving had been giving Wesker a hard time about a payment.

A final payment though, that wasn’t good. If Wesker was done working with Ricardo it probably meant that he genuinely was close to achieving his goal of infecting all of humanity with some super virus and then ruling over the remains. In the past it had sounded so farfetched that she had dismissed it as impossible, Wesker had given up on Uroboros after all and she had assumed the same would happen with whatever hidden project he was working on and refusing to even boast to her about.

It was strange and different and she didn’t like it.

In the distance on the water she could see a boat.

She watched it until it vanished from sight, then wondered about where it had come from and where it had gone to. Where would she go if she had the choice?

To the past, to a different boat, one off the coast of Italy, right after putting a stop to Lansdale’s scheme. She’d tell Chris that next mission be damned, she wanted to get married and have a house out in the countryside and let someone else save the world for a change and if everything fell apart afterwards then at least they would have had however many good months or years before it happened. Even a few days would be worth it all. The end of the world would have been a small price to pay for being able to enjoy a few days with Chris.

She had learned a lot about herself since becoming a monster, things that she wished she had known when she was still human, no matter how frightening they might have been.


	11. Dead is Dead

The rest of the outfit consisted of the expected trench coat, which was lined with some heavy material that was likely bullet proof, which went a long way towards explaining what made Tyrants seem so durable. Wesker made a point of checking her P30 pump, both as a reminder not to try anything and to insert several vials into the extra containment cells inside of the device.

Seeing the look on her face he smiled, "Inhibitors to prevent uncontrolled mutation. It shouldn't be too much of a risk given how stable the strain you’re infected with is, but I want to keep you on them for a time just to be safe."

Wonderful, yet another thing to worry about.

Once he was satisfied that everything was in place he walked in a slow circle around her, admiring his handiwork no doubt.

"Magnificent," he said softly as he finished his circuit and stopped in front of her, reaching into his pocket and tossing her a comm unit, "Just in case there's anything to report or I need to call you back early. Both are unlikely, but better safe than sorry, don't you think?"

The last thing he did was hand her a metal case. By the weight of it she could tell that it was designed to keep whatever was inside at a specific temperature, not that Wesker offered to explain what it was. It was a change in Ricardo's usual pattern and she didn't like it at all. Usually the man insisted in being paid in cash, either American dollars, or Euros, depending on where he was getting most of his supplies from at the time. When he wanted to buy something he would again insist on using cash. He'd only negotiate a trade when there was something very specific he wanted that he couldn't get elsewhere. Something small enough to be carried in a single suitcase, that wasn't cash, was different enough to be a cause for concern.

She took a jeep from the facility's garage, having to call a nearby majini over to drive it when she found herself unable to get comfortable in the driver's seat. Instead she ended up sprawled across the entire back seat, using her arms and legs to brace herself for a hellish hour long ride to the town where Ricardo was meeting her. The majini didn’t care about potholes in the road and alternated between taking turns too wide and far too sharply so that the danger of running off the road or flipping the jeep was very real. Having seen how some of the uninfested locals drove it was impossible for her to know if it was because of the plaga or if she had simply picked the worst possible driver.

She had the majini stop on the outskirts of the town, not to avoid suspicion, which was unnecessary since the place was completely controlled by the majini, but to give her the chance to stretch her legs and calm down.

Once she had walked off the stiffness from the ride she went to the meeting place, one of the few two story buildings in the town.

Ricardo was there already, sitting in a battered folding chair and listening to a local station on a battered radio. He looked up when she entered and did a near perfect double take.

Jill held up the suitcase and the smuggler relaxed slightly.

"I was expecting the girl in the bird mask," he laughed nervously as he took the case from her.

Of course he didn't recognize her, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise.

Setting the case down on the table next to the radio he opened it. Inside was a single vial of straw colored fluid. Ricardo took it out and held it up to the light, "It looks legit. The boys at the lab can tell me for sure. Give my regards to your boss. I'd say it was a pleasure working for him, but it wasn't."

"I'll let him know," Jill smiled wryly. The smuggler was a miserable rat bastard, but one thing was for sure, he always spoke his mind.

"Holy shit!" Ricardo did another double take, "You talk?"

"Yes, I can talk," she shook her head and started to leave, only to note the way Ricardo was holding the vial protectively to his chest. It wasn’t something that she thought he would do if it contained some deadly new viral agent, which got her wondering. Was it a vaccine to something? If so the vial couldn’t possibly contain that many doses, at least not enough to make it worth enough to pay for the services Ricardo had provided. The window of time Wesker had given her for the delivery was wide enough that she didn't have anything to worry about and she wasn't in a hurry to head back and report in to him. Instead she decided to take advantage of the smuggler's talkative nature, "What's in the vial?"

"My insurance policy," he put the vial back into the case, "Providing Wesker’s not fucking me over, a dominant form plaga. I don't trust him so I'm going to have my guys check it out before I use the thing."

One plaga, even a dominant form plaga was useless on its own and that was what Ricardo had wanted as his final payment. Growing the things outside of an established colony was next to impossible so a single dominant form was worthless as anything other than a curiosity. If he'd wanted a dominant form and reproductive pair that would have made sense, but what he'd just received was worth less than a tenth of the resources and materials he'd provided Wesker with. And here Ricardo was acting like it was the most valuable thing imaginable, "Why?"

Ricardo let out a whistle, "You really are an impressive piece of work. Wesker really out did himself, fucking show off. A Tyrant like you, even just as a proof of concept, is worth...I'm not actually sure. The going rate for Tyrants is unstable as fuck, but I'd probably be able to name my own price with you. Are you a prototype or should I expect to be seeing guys like you showing up soon on a large scale? Because if that's the case I might be willing to work with your boss again in the future."

"The plaga, why?" the backhanded compliments were better than his usual jeering comments, but Jill was starting to lose her patience with Ricardo. It was getting too easy to imagine picking him up and shaking him until he answered. Wesker had been clear that she was delivering a final payment so he probably wouldn't care if she killed Ricardo. Hell, she'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of a smuggler specializing B.O.W.s and biological agents used to make them. Besides, the ride to the town had left her in a bad mood and killing him would provide some much needed stress relief.

"Like I said, insurance," Ricardo took a step back, apparently realizing the danger he was in, "Dominant form plagas don't take over their host, they do a kind of symbiotic thing. Given enough time they do sort of take over, but by that point they've learned and act and think just like their host did. They're a near perfect copy aside from being a giant parasitic bug walking around in a manskin suit."

"Who do you want to copy?" echoes of Excella, Jill was fairly sure that she already knew the answer.

"Myself," the smuggler laughed shrilly, "Plagas are tough little bastards. I'm going to inject myself with our little friend here and if anything happens, if anything goes wrong, the plaga will probably be okay even if I'm not. I get hurt, I get sick, I get infected with something, the plaga's still fine. It's not going to care if its host is a zombie or what. Because everything it does from that point out is based on me I'll be fine."

"It'll be a parasite pretending to be you," Jill countered, shuddering in disgust at the thought of someone willingly doing something like that to themselves. She’d seen it happen again and again, but it was something she would never understand. Even thinking about what she’d become was enough to leave her feeling anxious, uncomfortable in her own skin and what the smuggler was suggesting was far worse.

"And what's the difference? I won't know and the copy won't care," Ricardo waved a shaking finger at her, "Dead is dead, but a copy of me is still me. Now if you don't mind, I need to get our little friend here checked out."

He brushed past her, leaving her to consider his words.

The Excella paradox was far more complicated than she'd imagined.


	12. The Ghost of Excella

Wesker was waiting for her when she returned, watching as she staggered out of the jeep, yanked the majini from the driver's seat and threw it across the garage. Several nearby majini started to move aggressively towards them, but dispersed at a gesture from Wesker. Jill still didn't know how he controlled them like that, but she suspected that at least one of the remaining researchers was host to a dominant form plaga and kept the others cooperative. If she figured out who it was she probably be able to cause a lot of trouble for Wesker.

"You've surprised me Jill," Wesker walked towards her to place a hand on her arm, "I honestly didn't expect you to come back. I truly am proud of you."

She jerked away from him, "Don't touch me."

The ride back had been just as bad as the ride to the town and she was antsy and restless. All she wanted to do was find some place to sit down and try and calm down before she did something stupid.

"I could punish you for that," Wesker reached up to pat the P30 pump through her coat, "But I'll let it slide because of how well you did. Follow me."

She did as told, following him through the upper floor of the facility to a door that she previously had not gone past. Wesker handed her a keycard, clearly for the door's electronic lock.

"The same card works for both doors on the other side. Yours is the one of the right," he instructed, taking out a keycard of his own and swiping it. The door slid open and they entered a hall unlike anything else in the building. The floors and walls were still sterile white, but the lighting was softer and there were carpets on the floor. Pictures hung on the walls, landscapes and still-lives, framed and carefully positioned for best effect.

She knew exactly where she was, the hall leading to Wesker and Excella's private quarters. Sure enough when she reached the door on the right and opened it she found herself looking into a lavishly decorated room. Thick carpeting on the floor, a four post bed covered in blankets and pillows, ornate dressers and cabinets lining the walls. A mirror was hung over one of the dressers, making the room look even larger and reflecting countless perfume bottles and jewelry boxes. Everything was neat and in perfect order, the only thing out of place was her reflection in the mirror, a hulking, inhuman figure in black standing amidst the luxury.

"You even have your own bathroom now. Take time to freshen up and when you're done meet me across the hall in my room for dinner," Wesker instructed, leaving her to stare and try and take it all in.

Wherever Excella may have been, dead or a monster, the ghost of her filled the room leaving Jill afraid to touch anything. Every piece of jewelry would be warm to the touch from her having worn it, the liquid in each perfume bottle would still be shimmering from her having just put it down, the dresses in the closet rustled from her passing.

The armchair by the hardwood table in the corner was probably warm from her just having left it after finishing a chapter of the book she was reading. There were plenty of books, mostly in Italian, but there were a few inexplicable American best sellers. It was one of the best sellers that she'd been in the middle of judging by the bookmark just past the halfway point. The book had been left with the cover down so Jill couldn't see what it was called or who it was by and she didn't want to pick it up to see for fear of losing Excella's place in it.

Wesker’s reward was horrifying, a haunted feeling room so close to where he slept. Jill knew that at night, when she wasn’t thinking about the heiress she would be thinking about how close by Wesker was. And he had given it to her as a gift so she couldn’t refuse it, not without risking his wrath.

On some level she knew that her thoughts were irrational, that dead or living there was nothing Excella could do to her, but with everything that she had been through something about the room left her unsettled. It was a reminder of what she was.

Shaking, Jill took off her coat and threw it on the bed. It lay there, an enormous black blot against the sheets. She couldn't leave it there.

Picking it up she hugged it against her chest, the same way Ricardo had held onto the case containing his plaga. She wanted her cell and her cot and the four white walls so badly. At least that had been hers, not a laughing, angry ghost's.

There was no room in the closet for her coat, it was too full of Excella's presence.

Apologizing to the dresses she took an empty hanger and put her coat on it before closing the door. There, it was hidden away. Maybe Excella wouldn't notice it, maybe she wouldn't care. The heiress had been insane, passionate about cooking and her own superiority, but not caring about people. A black trench coat in her closet might infuriate her, or maybe she'd laugh.

Jill took off her shirt and folded it, hiding it under the bed. She did the same with her boots and socks and pants. There, it was all gone, a dirty little secret hidden away.

Excella was waiting for her in the bathroom, her reflection in the gold fixtures of the sink and shower. Reclining in the hot tub and lingering over the blow-dryer and flatiron sitting by the sink.

The bathroom was larger than her old cell, but the heiress’ presence made it far too small.

_He really has made a mess of you_ , the ghost sighed.

"I know," Jill spoke to the empty room, fighting back tears that wouldn't come. That the gift of a room had been what it took to push her to the breaking point was the most insane part of it.

The bar of soap in the shower was half used and very carefully Jill removed it and set it down next to the sink. It belonged to Excella just like everything else.

The ghost wouldn't leave, watching as Jill searched for a new bar of soap, one that she could actually use.

_You're hardly the worst thing that's been here._

Was that permission? She wasn't sure. Should she trust the offer of a ghost any more than she should a gift from Wesker?

Gingerly she turned on the shower, waited for the water to get warm and stepped in. She needed to duck to stand under the shower head and she had to be careful not to disturb a single bottle of shampoo or conditioner.

_It's a lost cause_ , Excella laughed, reminding her that they were useless to her anyway.

Useless to both of them, a Tyrant and a ghost.

She crouched under the water for a long time, letting it run down her back and shoulders, scrubbing herself with smooth, floral scented soap, but it didn't work. She still felt unclean, the way she had when she learned of Ricardo's intentions with the plaga, or when she thought about Chris. Nothing was going to wash that away.

She didn't finish showering so much as she gave up and looked for a towel. Once dry she hung it over the shower door, again apologizing to Excella's ghost for leaving something out of place. The thing was, she hadn't wanted to move the towel hanging on the towel bar next to the shower in case the ghost of Excella needed it. She would surely fly into a rage over that, just like she would over a sink of dirty dishes and ruined pans.

Jill got dressed, glad to be removing her unwelcome clothing from under Excella's bed, though she kept her coat hidden in the closet, and fled across the hall to Wesker's room.

The difference was night and day.

There was a bed and a dresser and a closet. The walls were blank, no pictures, just the places where they might have hung at one time. A simple table and two chairs were set up to one side. Wesker sat in one, the other was open for her.

Dinner was steak and mashed potatoes. Jill cautiously cut into the steak, it wasn't raw like she'd expected. She'd expected that Wesker would eat raw meat. There was no reason for the thought, just that it was easy to assume that something other than his eyes would mark his as the monster he was. Judging by the taste the steak was some sort of local game meat and the potatoes had come from a box. The Excella's ghost lingered outside the door, ruined pan in hand, furious at the outrage of such a meal.

"Don't say anything," Wesker warned.

Maybe he could sense Excella's ghost as well.

Maybe that was why he'd cleared out the room as much as he had. If she'd been the one to originally choose the furniture and decorate it maybe taking those things out was what kept her out as well. Or maybe the explanation was far more mundane, Wesker wasn't good at cooking and he couldn't stand that there was something he wasn't good at.

They ate in silence and afterwards they sat in silence. Wesker wanted her to make the first move because then, no matter what she did, he could trap her.

"What, if anything, did our friend Ricardo have to say when he met you today?" Wesker spoke first, setting the trap.

"That he was glad to be done with working you," Jill answered truthfully, carefully circling the trap's edge, trying to determine the nature of it.

Wesker nodded, "He was pleased with the plaga then."

"Yes," small steps, she needed to figure out where Wesker was going with this.

"Did he tell you what he was going to do with it?" he asked with a knowing smile.

It had been safe once, she might as well try again, "Yes."

"What did you think about it?" his smile reached his eyes, red and sparkling with malicious glee.

"He's crazy."

"Probably," Wesker agreed, "Desperate too. He knows what my being done with him means."

So did Jill. That Wesker had figured out a way to succeeded in his plan, to bring about an end to humanity and replace it with something new, something he would rule over. It was the last part that frightened her the most. If he made humanity monsters like him how would he control them? He must have accounted of it in his plans. Then again, she had been around him long enough to believe that he was arrogant enough to assume that things would simply work out that way.

Wesker continued, "He doubts me, or maybe he assumes he won't be one of the fortunate ones. Soon enough he'll find out. I do wonder if his little insect will be enough to protect him."

Paradoxically Jill found herself glad that she hadn't killed Ricardo and hoping that he would survive, simply because of the scorn in Wesker's tone when he spoke about the smuggler. All she had left was spite and it was something to cling to.

"Soon enough you'll see what I have in store for humanity," reaching under the table Wesker put a hand on her leg, "I don't think it will surprise you, which is a shame. I would have loved to surprise you with a new world as exquisite as you are. How does that make you feel Jill, that you're by far the most beautiful woman in the world right now? That Excella spent her last days sick with envy that I wanted you instead of her? And now you have everything she wanted, perfection, near immortality, and me."

In the hall Excella's ghost was furious.

When Jill didn't respond Wesker sprung the trap, "And if you don't do what I want I'll stop the flow of P30 running through you right now and send you back to do the same to your new quarters as you did to the last that I was kind enough to provide you."

What he wanted was obvious and that was how she ended up spending the night naked in the same bed with him, as close to the edge as possible to avoid actually touching him.

Unlike Chris, Wesker slept fully clothed, which was a small mercy, but he was a restless sleeper, tossing and turning so that it was impossible to avoid his hands brushing against her. At least all he wanted was for her to sleep with him, if it had been anything more than that she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to bring herself to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for comments and kudos! And a special thanks to BlackBirdAolen and Gondiel for bookmarking This story. The amount of attention this crazy little idea of mine has managed to get has amazed me.


	13. A Promise Kept

The dream was so vivid that she didn't want to open her eyes. Somehow she was home and safe, the whole ordeal nothing more than a nightmare.  She was in a bed, a proper bed and Chris was making love to her. His hands were on her thighs and he was...

She opened her eyes. Somehow, despite her conviction that it would never happen, she’d managed to fall asleep.

"Good morning dear heart."

Then Wesker went back to sucking her cock.

She lay there, afraid to move or make any sound other than the low moans that escaped her of their own volition, watching his head bob up and down. He seemed to know what he was doing, taking her full length into his mouth effortlessly, knowing exactly what to do with his lips and tongue. In a morbid corner of her mind she realized that she wished her friends at the BSAA could see what was happening, not her being assaulted by Wesker, but Wesker expertly giving a blowjob to a Tyrant. They'd laugh, oh how they'd laugh.

She bucked her hips, thrusting into Wesker's mouth.

He continued, adjusting to match her motions, then finally had to come up for air. Panting, he raised his head and smiled at her. Her cock was glistening from his saliva as he took it in his hand and planted a kiss on its head before taking it back into his mouth, just the tip this time, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. He was teasing her, keeping her on the edge, but not letting her find release.

Wesker knew exactly what he was doing, almost as though he’d had practice. That was an interesting thought, but one that she didn’t have time for, not when all she could think of was how good his mouth felt.

Before she could consider what she was doing she grabbed him by the back of the head, weaving her fingers through his hair to get a better grip, and forced him down onto her cock. Wesker let her. He made no attempt to resist as she thrust into his mouth again and again until she felt the tension building in her stomach and cock. Muscles clenched, her abs rippled with the pleasurable spasms running through her and then it was over.

Only then did what had just transpired sink in.

Letting go of Wesker's head she sat up in bed.

He let her cock slip free from his mouth with a wet 'pop' and smiled at her, "I told you I'd reward you."

Giving her a pat on the thigh he got out of bed and stood up.

She was sure that he was about to ask her to do the same, but instead he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He left the door open so she was able to watch him.

Jill was in a state of shock, "You're not going to make me..."

He turned off the water, "Do you want to?"

He sounded hopeful.

"No!" she shuddered at the thought.

"Then you don't have to," he shrugged as he left the bathroom.

She stared at him, unable to understand why what she wanted mattered now when it never had previously. It was either part of a game, or he genuinely thought that he might somehow have a chance of winning her over so that she’d do it willingly. Alternately, as crazy and arrogant as he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to try and force a Tyrant to give him a blowjob.

"Just tell me one thing," he smiled, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"What?" she asked, her throat suddenly dry.

"Would Christopher do that for you? Would he suck your cock? Would he love you the way you are now?" Wesker sounded perfectly calm, his tone almost jovial.

Jill looked at herself, gray skin, heavy muscles, the softening cock between her legs, "No..."

"Then why were you calling his name?" He kissed her on the cheek and then left her to spend the rest of the day wondering when the P30 pump would stop working and she'd lose control.

It never happened, leaving her in a state of confusion as to Wesker’s motivations. There was no longer any rhyme or reason to his doling out of punishment and reward. Some balance had shifted and it made her nervous. In the past every change was for the worse and as bad as her situation was she could easily imagine further decline. Considering how far things had gone it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine when there might come a time when she would ask Wesker for a repeat of the morning’s events.

There could even come a time when she might willingly, eagerly return the favor. She was a monster and nothing was impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late, short chapter. Life got in the way and it wasn't fun.


	14. Reunion

Jill woke up in a bed, not her own bed, not Wesker's bed. It was Excella's bed. She and Excella's ghost had become roommates of a sort. As long as Jill was careful and spent as much time as possible away from the room, only returning to sleep, it wasn't so bad.

Of course she knew the ghost wasn’t real, that it was just another sign that the dose of P30 Wesker had her on was too low to keep her fully rational, but just enough to keep her from going violently insane. Knowing didn’t help.

She had a morning routine of sorts which helped, get up, try not to look in the mirror, wash up and then quickly remove her clothing from under Excella's bed and apologize before hurrying out. If she did things right she was able to make it to the kitchen to make herself breakfast before Excella's ghost got there too. Even if the ghost was waiting for her there she was easier to deal with in the kitchen than she was in her room. Washing the dishes appeased her, as did cleaning up. Then she was free to eat, usually powered eggs and dry toast, something that Excella's ghost mocked her about, but refused to offer any better suggestions.

Today she didn't have to worry about the ghost or her gradually eroding sanity though, she had far bigger concerns.

Wesker was standing in the doorway, looking furious.

"Get up Jill, there's trouble," Wesker was gripping the metal doorframe so tightly that it bent under the pressure, "Your former friends from the BSAA are on their way."

"I didn't..." she grabbed protectively at the pump secured to her chest.

"I know," Wesker's red eyes narrowed to slits, "Ricardo Irving tipped them off. As soon as the plaga matured he took over one of the majini controlled villages and had one of the locals put out word that I’m here. Agents have been sent in and you and I are going to deal with them. Once they're taken care of I'm setting the final part of my plan in motion. Tomorrow will be the first dawn of a new and far better world. After that you can deal with Irving."

That Wesker was going personally to deal with them and taking her along could only mean one thing, still Jill had to ask, to hear it for herself, "Who?"

"Your beloved Christopher and his new partner, a member of the local BSAA branch, Sheva Alomar," her horror seemed to put him at ease, for he sounded more relaxed when he continued, "I expect you to be on your best behavior for all of it otherwise I'll turn off your P30 in the middle of the fight and let you have a little reunion with Christopher. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to learn that you're alive. I don't think that will be necessary though. When we meet up with them I don’t want you going anywhere near Christopher, instead you're going to deal with his partner. She should be easy enough for you to take care of."

She.

Wesker's intent was obvious, but she wasn't going to rise to the bait. Not when maybe, just maybe she'd have the chance to do something. Even if Wesker stopped the P30 she might be able to keep under control long enough to do what she had to and give Chris a chance. The two of them might be able to finish what they'd started, ending what had begun when she tackled Wesker out the window.

"Now get dressed," Wesker snapped when she remained sitting in bed, holding on to the P30 pump.

She did as told, pulling her clothing out from under the bed and taking her trench coat out from where it hung amid the dresses that Excella would never wear again. She tried not to think about Excella's ghost, likely relieved to have the hideous, unwelcome intruder removed from her closet. Instead she focused on Chris, or she tried to, her thoughts were a mess. Wesker had planted the seed of doubt, of jealousy, something he ensured flourished by reducing further her dose of P30.

On the trip to the old temple complex turned storage facility that Wesker had decided would be perfect for an ambush she could feel the urge for violence and other things welling up in her. The thought of seeing Chris again wasn't helping either. She could actually feel her control starting to slip away and planning to try and betray Wesker wasn’t an option when it took all her willpower to stay sane.

Halfway there Wesker's expression grew thoughtful, "I think we should take Chris and his partner alive, let them witness the dawn of a new world. Or would you rather I stop your P30 drip and let you have your way with him. What do you think Jill? "

That changed everything. If Wesker wasn't going to kill Chris she'd have to be even more careful. It wouldn't be a defiant last stand for a lost cause, she'd be doing everything in her power to keep him alive. If she acted out of line Wesker would change his mind and kill Chris. All she could do was play along and bide her time.

"We'll take them alive," she said at last, "I don't...want him that way."

"Sure you don't," Wesker chuckled and squeezed her leg, "But I do appreciate the effort on your part."

He let his hand slide up higher and she looked away.

On the walk through the complex Jill was on the edge of her self-control. Chris had a new partner. That partner had replaced her. Chris had replaced her with another woman.

Another woman.

But she was going to see Chris again.

Chris...

Blood pounded in her ears. Trapped in her pants her cock was rock hard and throbbing. She felt ready to kill something, or fuck something, possibly both. Kill Chris' partner, then grab Chris and fuck him.

No.

She had to keep the woman alive, otherwise Wesker would kill Chris.

 

They encountered Chris and his partner at the top of a stairway in the complex. Words were exchanged between Chris and Wesker, but she heard none of it. All her attention was on Chris, taking in every detail of him. He looked tired, that was what struck her the most. He'd aged in their time apart, thinking that she was dead must have taken its toll on him, except she was standing less than twenty feet from him, wishing that she could run forward and...

She honestly didn't know. If Chris had recognized her it probably would have been even worse, but she’d still been holding out some hope that he would and would somehow rescue her.

If only he'd look at her, but all he could see was Wesker. Chris held his gun up, keeping it aimed at Wesker's chest, for all the good it would do. Wesker could read his every move, dodge effortlessly out of the way.

Jill turned her attention to the new partner, the woman she was going to have to deal with. She was young and slender and human and it was so easy to hate her for that.

"Where's Jill?"

Chris' demand came out of nowhere.

Jill tensed, terrified of what might follow. Would Wesker make her reveal herself?

Wesker laughed, "Do you really want to know?"

This was it then, Wesker would reveal her, Chris would deny it because how could he believe what Wesker would tell him, that she was the monster in front of him?

Instead Wesker took advantage of Chris pausing to consider the question to leap gracefully down to stand in front of Chris before punching him hard enough to lift him off the ground.

It had begun.

Jill lunged at the woman, Sheva Alomar, who opened fire on her.

Nothing, no pain, hardly even a feeling of impact. She'd been right then, the lining of the trench coat was bulletproof. Good to know.

Whatever her thoughts on Sheva, Jill had to admit she was brave, standing and facing down a charging Tyrant. Unfortunately she held her ground for too long, dodging too late. Jill hit her just once and she fell to the floor. Between not being used to holding back and the reduced P30 dose Jill was sure she'd killed the woman, that it had been Wesker's plan for her to do it so that she would blame herself for what he would then do to Chris. Fear and guilt were what stayed her hand when what she wanted to do more than anything was pick the prone woman up and throw her across the room, smash her into a wall and beat her to a bloody pulp for having fought alongside Chris.

"Sheva!" Chris cried out and in that moment Jill could have killed him herself. How dare he sound that hurt, that furious, when she was standing there, watching him? He'd come this far to find her and was unable to see her when she was standing in front of him. What would he do if she were to pick Sheva up, break her neck in front of him? She bent down to pick her up and Chris turned from Wesker to line up a shot on her.

The moment of distraction proved to be Chris' undoing. Wesker punched him twice more and he dropped like a stone.

Then he was at her side, checking to see if the woman was alive.

She must have been because after checking to see if she had a pulse Wesker smiled.

"Once again you impress me. Now gather these two up and let's go," he put a hand on her shoulder, but the gesture was impossible for her to interpret, “We’ve got business to attend to.”

He was planning something and that frightened her, almost as much as the fact that he expected her to carry Chris.

Picking up the woman was easy, she weighed nothing, hanging limply under Jill's arm.

Chris though, he was another situation entirely. He was stunned, but still partially awake. When she knelt down next to him he squirmed and struggled to get away. Unable to help herself she put her hand on his back, running it along his shoulders to feel the muscles there, watching them move beneath his shirt the way she used to when he would work out for her. Her cock, which had been rock hard the whole fight, throbbed with renewed urgency. Chris was here, she was touching him and…

Picking him up proved to be one of the most terrifying and exhilarating moments of her life. He was heavy, but not as much as she had expected. She was stronger than she'd thought, sparring with Wesker giving her a distorted view of her capabilities. As she carried him she could feel him struggling and it excited her, which in turn frightened her.

"Wesker," she growled.

He looked at her, gracing her with a knowing smile.

"The P30," she needed all the help she could get, before she did something stupid and dropped Chris to attack Wesker or worse. That she’d been reduced to asking for the drug was the final humiliation, but it was either that or deal with a temptation she was certain she wouldn’t be able to resist.

"Of course," Wesker took out the remote and with the press of a button she relaxed, "I'm so glad you're learning your limits. I'll need to think of some way to reward you when we get back."

On the way Chris regained consciousness and began to struggle in earnest. Feeling him moving against her, writhing and squirming was too close to what she wanted to have happen for comfort. Even with the P30 she didn't feel like she could trust herself. Once they got back she was going to get away from Wesker and Chris as quickly as possible and, if she was going to be honest with herself, find some place to jack off.

Or even take Wesker up on his offer of a reward, she was that desperate because in asking him to administer the P30 she had crossed a line. There was no turning back now, not after accepting that she was a monster, little better than an animal and unable to control herself.


	15. Choices

Upon returning Wesker relieved her of Chris and sent her to bring Sheva down to the holding cells. She had asked what he was going to do with Chris, but Wesker had told her not to worry, that he had no intention of harming him. It was hardy reassuring, but she knew that it was the best she was going to get and at least it would keep her away from Chris long enough to gather her thoughts and figure out what she was going to do.

Sheva still hadn't woken up and Jill was beginning to doubt that she would. Her breathing was shallow and her pulse was weak. Still, she would do as told and if Sheva died alone in the cell at least it wouldn’t be her fault. Wesker wouldn’t blame her, right?

The hall with the holding cells was the same as it had been, the one in which she'd been held was still in shambles all the others were open and empty. All she had to do was pick one to leave Sheva in.

She chose the one across from where she'd been kept, taking her pillow and blanket and putting them down so she wouldn't be leaving Sheva laying on the floor. It was a pointless gesture, but it seemed like the right thing to do, a way of reasserting herself and proving that maybe she wasn’t a lost cause. Besides, that way she had at least made an effort, something that she could use as proof that there was still something human left to her.

Wishing that there was something more she could do she closed the door behind her.

Farther down the hall something thudded against one of the doors. Apparently Wesker had found a new test subject worth keeping. She would have gone to investigate, but there was no way to look into the cell to see what was inside other than through the security feed. Wesker had learned with the Uroboros test subjects that even the smallest gaps could cause problems. Besides, she didn't feel like tormenting something in the same circumstance she'd been in so recently.

She left the basement floor and paced the halls, looking for some sign of Wesker or Chris, but neither were anywhere to be found. Each researcher and majini she encountered she demanded an answer from, but with each the reply was the same, none of them had seen Chris and those who had seen Wesker reported that he was working in his private labs.

That made sense at least, he had said that once they dealt with Chris and Sheva he would resume his work and since no one had said that Chris had been with him when he went there it was safe to assume that he had kept his word and hadn't harmed Chris. Of course Wesker had promised Excella immortality and told Jill she was beautiful, so what he said wasn't to be trusted.

All she knew for certain was that he had a plan and when he was ready she would be made aware of it. Until then all she could do was wait which was something she had gotten used to.

Late in the day as it was, it would be too hot for her to spend time on the roof until the sun set and pacing the halls meant dealing with the stares of the scientists. They all seemed to know that something was about to happen, several of the ones she had encountered had been hurrying past with boxes and binders of papers, laptop computers, or simply fleeing from the building. That Wesker didn't care, hadn't ordered her to stop them, meant that he must have been confident that it would be impossible for his plan to be stopped.

And he'd hidden Chris somewhere so that if she were to try and stop him she'd never see Chris again, or worse, she'd have to watch as he died, knowing that it was because of her actions. She was sure that Chris would rather die than see Wesker win, she felt the same way, but was she ready to take any action that would more or less amount to killing him herself? It was a situation she wouldn't know the answer to until it happened and she was terrified of what the answer would be. As much as she wanted to kill Wesker, as right as it felt, consequences be damned, how much of that was her and how much of that was the virus, twisting her thoughts, making her desire violence? If she knew that then maybe she'd know what to do.

The comm unit in her pocket buzzed. Until the noise she'd forgotten about it entirely.

"What do you want?" she growled the small amount of P30 in her system far too little for her to keep the hatred out of her voice or even care about what the consequences of it might be.

"I suggest you head back to your room," Wesker laughed.

"Why?" the sound of his voice was enough to make her want to throw the comm unit to the ground and smash it to pieces.

"I've left a surprise for you there, something to help you pass the time until my, shall we say, modified t-virus has been dispersed," he laughed again, "Think of it as a reward, or maybe one final test for you. Don’t worry though, whatever you do, I won’t be mad."

The line went dead.

Screaming she threw the comm unit down the hall.

She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of going to see, but she was too curious not to. Odds were it would be him, waiting and if it was she'd kill him. Yes, that seemed to be her only option, kill Wesker, try and stop his plan and then lose everything, not that it would matter because it was possible he had already killed Chris or hidden him away to die in some place where she'd never find him in time. The facility had countless chryo-pods and Chris could be in any one of them, or none of them. No, he was probably frozen in chryo, infected with something that only Wesker could cure. If he was found and released he would probably only have hours to live after waking up. When she got to Wesker she'd ask him before killing him because at least then she'd die knowing Chris’ fate and Chris would never have to know what she'd become.

Resigned to whatever fate awaited her, Chris and humanity as a whole, a group she was willing to accept that she was no longer a part of, she got onto the elevator and took the long ride up to the top floor of the facility where her room was.

Reaching the first door she opened it, took two steps down the hall towards the doors that lead to Wesker's and Excella's rooms only to hesitate. Both doors were closed. She'd expected the door to Wesker's room to be open, waiting for her, but it wasn't. Which door was she supposed to go to? Was that the test he'd mentioned? If so it didn't make sense, even by his increasingly erratic standards.

Her room seemed the safe bet, if there was a safe bet, and she slid her keycard through the reader. There was a beep and the lock disengaged with a click. Something in the room moved, Wesker no doubt, except...

She could hear things rustling and rattling, harsh angry breathing. If it wasn't Wesker then it had to be the room's true occupant, Excella's ghost, pacing furiously through the room, ready to attack the moment the door was opened.

Could it hurt her?

_Yesterday I was angry at you, today I'm not_.

Of course not, ghosts, even Excella's ghost, weren't real. Besides, at the end the two of them had made their peace, hadn't they?

Believing herself to be ready for whatever lay on the other side, she pushed the door open.

It was Chris, naked and secured face down to her bed and struggling with all his might against restraints designed to hold things far stronger than any human. His arms and legs were spread, fastened to the bedposts. Each and every one of his muscles stood out in sharp definition as he strained to free himself. There was nothing he could do, he was totally helpless.

Feeling like she was in a dream, or maybe a nightmare, Jill approached the bed.

Chris turned his head and looked at her, anger and confusion fighting in his expression, "What are you doing here?"

She could ask him the very same question, but she had a feeling she knew the answer. He was Wesker's reward, the last test. One that Wesker had made far too easy for her, which meant it had to be a trap.

Wesker had said that he wouldn’t be mad no matter what choice she made, but was that true? How would he respond to her making her final decision and choosing Chris over him? Or if she decided not to and sought Wesker out and begged him to free Chris, that she would do anything he wanted if only he let Chris go unharmed?

Slowly she reached out and ran a hand down his back, his muscles tense beneath her fingers.

Oh how much she wanted to sit down on the bed next to him, to place her hands on his shoulders and massage the tension out of them. She wanted to touch him all over, remind herself of everything she'd been missing, to lay down next to him, to wrap her arms around him.

Taking off her trench coat she let it drop to the floor.

She could get undressed, lay out top of him so that as much of her could touch as much of him as possible, her achingly hard cock pressed between them. How good would that feel? He would struggle, but that would only add to the fun because he'd be rubbing against her cock the whole time. Even without the restraints there would be nothing he could do, she was so much larger than him, so much stronger.

Chris struggled and swore, looking at her with uncomprehending disgust.

She looked down at her hand on his back, gray skin against tan.

Wesker had lied, she wasn't perfect, she was a monster. It was Chris who was perfect, utterly human and amazingly, blindingly perfect.

And he was hers to do with as she pleased.

"Stop struggling," she panted, licking her lips in nervous anticipation of what she was about to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so evil when I wrote this chapter. I was smiling the whole time.


	16. Killing a Ghost

In response to her demand Chris redoubled his efforts.

"Stop it!" she roared and placed her hand on his back in an attempt to make him lay still, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Of course he didn't stop, why would he believe her?

"You killed Sheva!" Chris screamed at her.

"She's still alive," Jill snapped, "And if you keep still and let me free you we might still be able to save her and everyone else."

Finally Chris stopped moving, shock more than anything else working to keep him in place as what she'd said sank in.

"Why should I trust you?" he said at last.

That was a good question, one Jill had to think about as she struggled to unfasten the straps around his wrists. She didn’t even trust herself, the temptation to fuck him right that instant was too strong. He’d scream and struggle, but it would feel so good. He’d hate her for it of course, but he already hated her simply because of what she was, a monster, one of Wesker’s pets. Doing what she wanted wouldn’t change anything. Chris didn’t recognize her so it wouldn’t be like he actually hated her, just the monster that she was. Except she’d know. If she gave in there wouldn’t be anything left of her. Still, the temptation was strong and in the end in the end there was only one possible answer she could think of to give him, "You don't have a choice."

Neither of them had a choice.

As soon as she finished freeing one of his hands he turned as best as he was able and socked her in the jaw as hard as he could, the fact that he’d hit her hurting far more than the actual punch. She was able to get her arm up in time to block his second swing.

"Save it for Wesker," she warned. Knowing that if she hit him back she’d probably kill him made it a lot easier for her to resist retaliating.

He took one last swing at her and then allowed her to free his other arm.

When both his arms were free she took a step back and let him move down the bed so that he could roll over and unfasten his legs on his own.

"Why are you letting me go?" Chris demanded as he worked at the buckles and straps, “If you wanted Wesker dead you could have done it before the two of you attacked us.”

That at least was a question that she could answer, "If I’d turned on him then would you have helped me or would you have tried to stop me so that you could question him? Wesker deserves to die for what he's done. When we find him, I don't care if your orders are to capture him, we're going to kill him. Don't try to stop me."

Chris finished freeing himself and looked her up and down, "I don't have a choice but to go along with you, do I?"

"No," she shook her head and pulled off her shirt, "Here."

She tossed it to him and he caught it and put it on.

"Thanks."

The way her shirt hung off him reminded her of the way his shirts hung off her in the mornings when she woke up in his apartment. It was something that was never going to happen again. There were a lot of things that would never happen again.

Chris looked at the P30 pump on her chest, but didn't say anything.

That was fine, let him draw his own conclusions about it. Whatever he decided it was didn't matter. She picked up her trench coat and put it back on.

"Wait here," Jill turned to leave.

Chris started to follow her, "Why?"

She looked back at him, "I'm going to find you a pair of pants, unless you want to go after Wesker the way you are now."

He laughed at that, a harsh, humorless sound, “He’d probably like that, wouldn’t he?”

Jill froze, anger threatening to overwhelm her as the worst thoughts sprang to mind, “Why do you say that?”

She didn’t need to know, she didn’t even want to know, but it was better than wondering.

Chris looked at her, “In case you didn’t notice, he had me chained naked to his bed.”

Oh, she let out a sigh of relief. Chris had misunderstood the situation entirely, hadn’t realized that she was the one that he had been left for.

“Believe me, I noticed,” she said quickly before hurrying out of the room.

Wesker had told the truth about her keycard worknig on both doors. She went into his room and rummaged through the single dresser until she found a pair of sweatpants that looked like they might fit Chris.

The fit wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. At the very least it prevented her from staring at his ass and wondering what it would be like to slide her cock against it and then…

"Alright," Jill smiled, trying to keep her thoughts focused on the coming violence rather than the fact that Chris was standing next to her and would be totally helpless if she decided to force him against a wall, "Now we go to the labs and find Wesker. He should be there working on whatever virus it is he plans to release."

"No," Chris said quickly, "You're going to take me to wherever Sheva is. You said she was still alive."

"Why?" Jill clenched her fists, wondering if Chris knew how close he was to ruining everything. Depending on the next few words he spoke he might manage to push her over the edge on which she was so precariously balanced.

"Because if she's alive then someone else might be too and I need to know," Chris stared right through her, "Someone sent me a photograph of...someone I care about."

No wonder Wesker had been so confident that Chris would show up, he'd been the one to set up the whole encounter. It couldn't have been Ricardo, he'd never seen her face until after she was unrecognizable, and Excella would have had no reason to torment Chris and not brag about it to her. Wesker had set it all up, had wanted Chris to be here. Even worse, Chris had admitted that he'd come into the trap because he'd wanted to find her.

Well he'd found her, as much good as that did either of them.

"I'll take you to Sheva," Jill said slowly.

Wesker was going to die for what he'd done and he was going to die terribly. She would kill him by inches and she'd enjoy every second of it because that was all there that was left for her now.

On the way to the holding cells they encountered several majini. The first one was caught off guard and she was able to kill it by picking it up and throwing it against the wall, kicking it between the shoulders for good measure to make sure that the plaga inside was dead as well. Chris took the gun it had been carrying, meaning that, though the next few they encountered were ready for them, they weren't that hard to deal with. Jill led the way and Chris shot at them until she was close enough to deal with them.

Even after all their time apart and everything that had happened, the two of them effortlessly worked together as a team. It was almost frightening how easy it was, how natural fighting alongside him was considering all the time that had passed and all that had happened in that time. She knew exactly what Chris would do under normal circumstances and that it turn made it easy for him to adjust his tactics to accommodate the fact that he was working with her. At the back of her mind there was an inkling of utterly irrational fear that she might do or say something and give herself away and if he recognized her it might ruin everything.

Getting onto the elevator provided them with a break from the fighting. Chris took the time to reload the gun he'd acquired and Jill watched him.

"Are you alright?" Chris finished reloading and looked at her.

"Yeah," she sighed, assuming that he was trying to make conversation because he was worried about the fact that he was stuck in an elevator with a Tyrant, "I already told you that I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're bleeding," he gestured at her arm.

He was right, she was and she hadn't even noticed it. The injury couldn't have been that bad then, but just to be sure she pulled back her sleeve. One of the majini shooting at them had gotten lucky and managed to shoot her through her coat. It had only glanced her though, leaving a deep graze just below her elbow. It didn't hurt and it was already starting to scab over. Give it three days, a week at most and there wouldn’t even be a scar, if she lived that long.

"Nothing to worry about," she let her sleeve drop back down, "Probably for the best."

"What?" Chris looked at her, incredulous.

"They're all terrible shots," she laughed, "What are the odds of another of them getting that lucky?"

He laughed back and for a moment it was like everything was normal.

Then the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

Chris looked out and the moment he saw that there were no more majini he hurried forward "You said Sheva's down here. Where?"

Just like it was over, they weren't partners, just temporary allies against a common enemy.

"This way," Jill walked down the hall to the cell where she'd left Sheva.

Chris caught sight of the open door of her old cell and stopped, "Something escaped from this one.

"Don't worry about it," Jill sighed, opening the door to Sheva's cell, "That happened a long time ago."

Chris looked at her warily, then stepped into Sheva's cell and knelt down next to her.

The woman was exactly where Jill had left her, though she'd moved slightly.

"Sheva," Chris shook her gently and she moaned, but other than that she remained nonresponsive.

The thing in the cell down the hall slammed into the door again, letting out a howl of rage. In all the excitement Jill had forgotten about it.

"What was that?" Chris started to get up.

Jill shrugged, "I don't know. It was down here when I left her here. Up until Wesker moved me out I was the last thing left here."

Down the hall the thing howled and raged, slamming into the door and walls, much like Jill assumed she had. Whatever it was Jill felt bad for it.

"Only you?" he asked, trying to hide disappointment that Jill couldn't understand the reason for.

"Just me," Jill shrugged, "There were more at first, before he gave up on Uroboros."

"Gave up on Uroboros?" Chris repeated, disappointment instantly replaced by confusion, "Why?"

"It didn't work the way he wanted it to," Jill smiled at the memory of how upset the repeated failures had left him, "It killed everything it infected, or at least everybody. He wants there to be survivors for him to rule over."

"He's crazy," Chris said quickly and with such confidence that Jill couldn't help but smile.

"You don't need to tell me that," Jill said softly, wishing that Chris would reach out and touch her, just like how he was holding onto Sheva's hand, though he probably didn't realize it. She wanted to be jealous, but she couldn't, not when he was only here because of her. It seemed that the P30 was finally having an effect.

"About that," he looked at her cautiously, "Where do you fit in with it all?"

It wasn't having as strong an effect as she'd like though, not enough for her to want to even attempt to answer that question, "Don't ask."

Chris sighed and adjusted the blankets around Sheva, prompting another moan, louder this time, "We can't take her with us, not when she's in this condition. Do you think it's safe for us to leave her here?"

He looked across the hall at her former cell as he asked the question.

"She'll be safe," Jill looked at the dents on the walls of her old cell, some of which were streaked with blood. She must have split her knuckles when she was punching the walls, but they'd healed perfectly and she hadn't realized it, "I didn't manage to escape, Wesker let me out. Whatever's down the hall isn't going to have any better luck."

As though it knew it was being talked about it let out a roar that rose up and up in pitch, ending in a scream.

Had she sounded the same way? She was glad the security feed hadn't had any sound. She didn't want to know what she sounded like, how different it must have been if Chris couldn't even recognize her voice.

The scream cut off abruptly and it once again threw itself against the door. It growled out something that sounded almost like words, enraged nonsense that was somehow familiar.

"Let's get out of here," Chris said, glancing down the hall, "We've got to hurry and stop Wesker."

The thing down the hall fell silent, then let out a long, shrill wail, "Albert!"

Jill gasped in horror, "Excella?"

Maniacal laughter echoed down the hall.

Chris looked at Jill like she was crazy, "As in Excella Gionne? The head of Tricell?"

After all her searching she'd finally found the heiress. Not dead, but something far worse.

"What did he do to you?" Jill ran down the hall towards her cell, ignoring Chris' shocked expression.

The thing in the cell threw itself against the door again. Snarling and snapping before finally it stopped and drew several ragged breaths. When it spoke its voice was guttural, inhuman, but surprisingly understandable, "Kept his promise, gave me what he gave you."

A string of furious Italian followed, rapidly fading into inarticulate growls.

Suddenly more than anything Jill wanted to know what was in that cell, what Excella had become. It was likely the same type of morbid curiosity that had brought the heiress to watch her. She wanted to see what Wesker had done to Excella and in doing so kill her ghost.

"Don't let it out!" Chris shouted, aiming the stolen rifle at her. He was a far better shot than the original owner and would probably be able to do some damage, maybe even incapacitate her.

"Let me out!" Excella growled and threw herself at the door, "Let me kill Albert!"

"Are you going to attack me if I do?" Jill asked, fingers inches from the door's keypad. All of them used the same code. At the start Wesker had told her that and the code itself. It was part of his game, letting her know how to open her own cell for herself when he locked her away. Because she was locked inside she couldn’t of course, but if someone came to rescue her she would be able to tell them how to free her. The knowing had made being trapped even worse, even more hopeless. Except she was free now and there still wasn’t much in the way of hope to be found.

Excella growled and slammed into the door, "No."

"Don't do it," Chris warned, "Whatever that thing is, it's dangerous."

Jill ignored him, "Are you going to attack Chris?"

"Who?" it growled harshly and broke into Italian, then, without warning it started laughing, frantic, breathless laughter, "I won't hurt your husband."

"He's not my...never mind," Jill growled, then turned to Chris, "I'm going to let her out. If she wants to help kill Wesker we can use the help. If she tries anything I can take her."

Excella threw herself at the door again, "I know where Albert is!"

"In the labs," Chris said quickly, repeating what Jill had told him, "Even if that thing is Excella, she's crazy."

"Not if you're here!" the heiress roared and threw herself at the door, "He wouldn't have brought you here if there was anything left to be done! You know how he likes to talk about things he's proud of, don't you Jill?"

"Stop it!" Jill snapped and punched the wall next to the door, "Keep talking like that and I'll leave you here."

Excella fell silent, the only sound from within the cell was ragged, animal panting.

"See," Jill took advantage of the silence to turn to Chris, "We can trust her and were going to need all the help we can get to stop Wesker. Remember what happened last time you went after him."

It was easily the most horrible thing she could have said, but it worked, he lowered his weapon and Jill punched the code in on the door's keypad.

The instant the lock disengaged the door flew open and she was shoved roughly aside. Excella nearly knocked her off her feet as she bulled past.

The heiress was totally unrecognizable.

She stood taller than Jill and was considerably wider across the shoulders, a true Tyrant in the final stages of mutation. If she was right about Wesker having infected her and Jill with the same virus, and there were certain prominent anatomical traits that indicated that it was, then the heiress had fared far worse. Her once perfectly tanned skin had darkened to the point where it looked like leather, pulled tightly over bulging muscle wrapped around her warped frame like bands of steel cable. Her right arm, matching where Wesker had broken her wrist had hypertrophied, ending in a hand that was little more than four bone claws long enough to scrape against the floor.

For the first time since her transformation had begun Jill realized how lucky she was.

Chris had recovered from his initial shock enough to raise his rifle again, but Excella wasn't even heading in his direction. Instead ran to the opposite end of the hall, towards the stairs.

"Albert's in the hanger," she growled, swiping the door to the stairs off its hinges with her claws.

"Damn it," Jill swore and turned back to Chris, "Get back to the elevator, we need to hurry."

Even if Excella was crazy what she had said made perfect sense and lined up with everything else far too well to be coincidence. When Wesker had still been working with Uroboros his plan had been for an atmospheric release to ensure it spread globally. He had, using Excella's wealth and his connections, acquired several missiles in which he had intended to load warheads containing the virus. The last she'd known, he'd been in the process of getting a plane to carry the viral bombs, though she'd assumed that he'd abandoned that effort when he gave up on Uroboros. Apparently whatever he'd decided to use instead could be spread in the same manner.

"What's going on?" Chris demanded, but at least he was following instructions and running to the elevator as he spoke.

"Wesker's about to release whatever virus he's made," Jill growled as she caught up, "We've got to get him before it's too late."

In the cell where they'd left her Sheva shifted and coughed loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope no one's too disappointed by what did and didn't happen in this chapter. What Jill ended up doing surprised me when I was writing it. I had a much different darker turn of events planned out when I first came up with the idea for this fic, but Jill wasn't having any of it and who am I to try and stop a Tyrant from doing what it wants?


	17. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle.

After a frantic discussion, in which they had hashed out a desperate plan, there had been an awkward moment when the elevator doors opened and they tried to get in at the same time. Jill won by virtue of being stronger and mashed the button to close the door even as Chris got on.

"You really think that thing knew what it was talking about?" Chris stared uneasily at her, returning to the earlier point of contention. Any trust that had existed earlier was rapidly vanishing. What had happened in the cells had changed the dynamic between them irreparably, "Did you even hear half of what it said?"

"Yes," Jill growled. At least they had a plan for dealing Wesker, one that might actually work.

"Did you hear what she called you?"

She didn't like where this was going. Staring at the lights above the elevator doors she wished it would hurry up and arrive.

"She called you Jill."

"Yes," she growled again, fighting the urge to punch the wall and pretend she was smashing in someone's skull for asking too many stupid questions. Why couldn't they let the matter drop and focus on what was important, killing Wesker? "She was also out of her mind even before she ended up like that."

She glared at Chris as she said this and he looked away.

"And you still let her out."

Just like Excella, not shutting up when it was best.

"She wants to kill Wesker and so do I," Jill looked down at her boots, "Besides, I used to be kept locked down there. Excella was a terrible person, but she didn't deserve that."

Chris started in again, "The person I came here looking for is -”

"I know, Jill Valentine," Jill cut him off, "If you're that worried about what Excella said you can ask when we catch up with her."

Chris stared at her, looking at her like the monster she was. It was better that way.

The elevator stopped and they got off.

It was a short run to the hanger and the hall on the way there was filled with majini, all of them dead.

Excella had cleared the way for them. Judging by the number of them and how heavily they were armed, the heiress had been right about Wesker being there.

They burst into the hanger in time to see a battered and bloody Excella fall to the ground at Wesker's feet. Letting out a growl that was little more than a wheeze Excella struggled to her hands and knees and lunged, only for Wesker to effortlessly dodge. It was something that Jill had known would happen, endless sparring sessions with Wesker having left her well acquainted with how impossibly fast he was. Still, it was painful to watch as the mutated heiress swung wildly at empty air where Wesker had been seconds ago.

Jill winced as Excella tripped, staggered a few feet before managing to recover and turn around just in time for Wesker to deliver a brutal kick to her right side, just below the ribs. The impact was enough to stagger the heiress and force a shrill, pained gasp from her as she dropped to her knees. Turning to face him, she bared blood streaked teeth at Wesker.

“We’ve got do to something,” Jill growled, taking a step forward. She’d been in the same situation too many times to just watch. Besides, tenacious as Excella was, she didn’t know the first thing about fighting. All the heiress had was years of festering resentment and the strength the virus had granted her and it wasn’t enough, not against an opponent like Wesker.

“What? What can we do? Do you think we’d stand a chance if we got between the two of them?”

It was an excellent question, one Jill didn’t have an answer to. It was hard to tell how much of Excella was left. She was fighting Wesker like an animal, roaring and clawing at him, but Jill suspected that even if Excella had been entirely herself the fight would have looked the same because that was how she was. Hers was a rage where throwing chairs and chasing people was an acceptable response to a messy kitchen. If they were to interfere with the fight, even to help kill Wesker what would happen? Was there enough of the heiress left to understand if there was would she want their help or resent the interference?

“Stop!” Chris grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat, his fingers nearly brushing against her hand.

Until he’d grabbed her Jill hadn’t even realized she’d been taken a step forward. Jill froze at the almost contact and stared at him.

Chris stared back, utterly fearless, even though for all he knew she would attack and kill him with a single swing.

“We’ve got a plan and we need to stick to it,” Chris continued, “I’ve fought Wesker before and –”

“So have I,” Jill growled, remembering the countless sparring sessions, the endless abuse, both physical and mental. After all she’d been through, all she’d endured it was her right to fight Wesker, to kill him when the time came. She’d earned it, more than that, it would feel good to stand over his broken body, watch as he suffered. It was the virus making her think that way, filling her mind with thoughts of violence. At least it kept the other urges at bay, kept her from thinking about what she wanted to do to Chris, what she had nearly done to him.

Chris continued to hold on to her sleeve, “Then you should know better than to –”

He stopped abruptly when Excella’s roars gave way to a lilting string of Italian.

There was no need to understand the words to hear the venom in her tone. It might have been profanity, accusations, a plea for mercy, or a prayer. With Excella it was impossible to tell, all Jill knew for certain was that the fight was as good as over. The mutated heiress was back on her knees, bleeding profusely from her mouth and nose. Even Tyrants had limits and Excella had reached hers. Her words trailed off in a desperate wheeze, the blood bubbling from her nose light and frothy, a sure sign of a punctured lung. An injury like that wasn’t enough to stop a Tyrant, but Jill could only guess at what other internal damage there was.

“Why Albert?” Excella reached out for Wesker, in the process revealing that two of her claws had been broken and were little more than splintered stumps.

Wesker sidestepped her feeble attempt and shook his head, “It was necessary. You had as much a chance as anyone will, it’s simply the price of progress.”

Snarling, Excella lunged forward one last time, falling in a heap when Wesker kicked her in the side of her head. He followed up by stomping down on her throat, her trachea collapsing with a crunch loud enough for Jill to hear.

Excella may have been more than a match for the majini, but Wesker had been too much for her. Still, Jill realized that Excella had managed to at least injure him, which was impressive. His normally perfectly combed hair was disheveled and, even more telling, his shirt was torn, revealing several shallow scrapes across his chest. That was the best a full Tyrant had been able to do, scratch him and mess up his hair. Jill realized that she'd been an idiot for thinking that she and Chris had a chance. Except unlike Excella they had more than mindless rage, they had a plan and hopefully that counted for something.

Chris let go of her sleeve to ready his gun and Jill had to struggle to keep from grabbing his hand.

Smiling, Wesker looked down at the fallen Excella, "Pathetic, but that's the nature of the beast, isn't it?"

He raised his head and fixed Jill with a piercing stare, “Isn’t it dear heart?”

She met his stare with one of her own, "It's over Wesker."

"Yes, yes it is," having killed a Tyrant he wasn't at all concerned by the gun Chris had aimed at him, "And I have to admit that I'm impressed you've made it this far. You're a far better specimen than I originally thought. Such a pity that I was unable to exercise your foolish sentimentality along with the rest of your flaws. There will be no room for such compassion in my new world. Given enough time though, I may be able to fix even that."

Jill looked past him at the plane still in the hanger. It wasn't too late then.

Chris took aim and fired.

Wesker dodged effortlessly.

"We've already been through this, haven't we?" he taunted, "And you remember how well that went."

If he kept talking, kept focused on Chris Jill thought that she might be able to get him. All she needed to do was wait until he got close enough and as he dodged bullets he was getting steadily closer.

"You know what the hardest part of making a virus is?" Wesker laughed and then answered his own question, "Getting it to give the desired results. You, dear heart, are proof that I was able to do that much and I have to thank you. You inspired me, made me see everything I was doing wrong and how to fix it."

Chris stopped shooting to look at her, trying to figure out what Wesker was going on about.

"I realized that I didn't need to make the perfect virus, just one that gave near perfect results," he looked back at Excella and shook his head, "As you can see there's some variability. Roughly twenty percent of the population will experience mutations like Excella's or ones even more extreme. Of those I expect half to end up completely mindless. That's fine, as they will help separate the chaff of humanity. Thirty percent of the population will change as you have, into something new and wonderful."

He was waiting for it, Jill wasn't going to give it to him, but Chris was willing to oblige.

"And everyone else will die," Chris dropped his rifle and took out the knife he'd taken from one of the dead majini, "If you release your virus."

"Not at all," Wesker laughed, catching Chris by the arm as he swung the knife, "Half of the population will be simply be asymptomatic carriers, or largely asymptomatic. I expect there will be some lucky individuals in that half who end up with increased strength and endurance, which they are very sorely going to need in dealing with their massively enhanced counterparts. Now please, ask me what the easiest part of making a virus is."

He and Chris struggled for a moment before he was able to turn Chris around and break his balance. Keeping Chris in a chokehold Wesker smiled at her, "I said ask me. Otherwise I'll snap his neck."

Jill stepped forward, hands shaking. She wanted to kill Wesker so badly but if she tried...

Wesker tightened his grip, "Ask me."

Mere feet away, close enough to reach out touch him, likely blocking his view of anything else in the hanger, Jill took a deep breath, "What's the easiest part?"

Something had to happen and soon. It was just waiting for that opening that was a struggle. Jill fought with all her might to keep from tackling Wesker just like the first time.

"Making it airborne," Wesker beamed, relaxing his grip on Chris just enough to let him breathe.

"What?" Jill couldn't understand what she was hearing.

"I thought you were smarter than this," Wesker urged, "Do you really think that I would have been careless enough to let Excella take you out and have her fun if I hadn't planned everything out? Do you think I'd have let everyone here start to flee to all corners of the world, to work for whoever would prove willing to hire them, if they weren't also taking with them something I wanted them to? You were my proof of concept dear heart, but I wouldn't have infected you if I weren't already sure of the results I'd get. I was not lying when I said that I wanted you and I wasn't about to risk losing you to a flawed virus."

It was starting to sink in, the implications too terrifying to even consider, "You mean..."

"Yes, you're contagious, Excella was infected through her contact with you, limited as it was, and I had to lock her away before she started to show symptoms. When she became symptomatic I knew I'd succeeded," Wesker smiled at her, once again adjusting his grip on Chris when he began to struggle too much, "I’ll admit I’m surprised that the two of you came after me. I was certain that you’d have your way with him, or perhaps release him. Either way Christopher would end up infected and if he survived he’d carry the virus with him back to the BSAA. I’m not disappointed, just surprised, not that it matters. I've already won. I’ll deal with the two of you and then see to Christopher’s new partner. She’ll be as effective a vector as any."

Wesker's triumphant laugh cut short, silenced as a bullet went straight through his skull. He fell to the floor, dragging Chris with him.

Jill pulled Chris free and stomped on Wesker's dead body several times, just to be sure.

And because it felt good.

Behind her she heard Sheva run over to Chris and fall sobbing into his arms.

She stomped on Wesker again, even though what was left was largely unrecognizable.

Their plan had gone perfectly, she and Chris distracting Wesker while Sheva, who had regained consciousness and called out to them while they waited for the elevator doors to open, got into position to shoot him as soon as he was distracted. Between her and Chris Wesker had never even noticed Sheva, had probably died without even knowing what had happened.

It galled her to know that Wesker hadn't suffered, but, as Ricardo had said, dead was dead.

"Do you think..." Sheva started only to trail off.

"That Wesker was telling the truth?" Chris finished, "All we can do is wait and hope."

They both fell silent and stared at Jill, the last unanswered question of the ordeal.

Jill grimaced and looked away. No matter what happened next she wasn’t going to say anything. It was better for Chris to think that she was dead than know the truth, he’d had enough time to come to terms with that. If Wesker had been telling the truth the least she could do was deprive him of that one final victory over the two of them. Because if Wesker hadn’t been lying, if what she had was contagious, then Chris and Sheva were going to have to kill her to prevent the virus from spreading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go, the final chapter and a day early too. Don't worry, I'll probably write out a little epilogue just to wrap things up a little more cleanly. I hope you enjoyed the ride. And please, if there's something, anything you want to see from me, let me know.


	18. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue I threw together to give things a bit more closure.

Jill's new quarters were nowhere near as luxurious as the last she'd had, hardly larger than the cell Wesker had kept her in, but they felt far more inviting, far more right. She didn’t even have a bed, just blankets and foam pads on the floor because there wasn’t room in the cell for a bed large enough to fit her, but instead of feeling trapped she felt a sense of peace, of acceptance of her circumstances that had long been absent from her life. There was a sense of safety in the confinement, the isolation.

She was being kept somewhere in a lab belonging to the BSAA, so at least in some capacity she was back home and safe. It had been a week since the events at the Tricell facility, a week of constant testing and poking and prodding, but it was for a good cause. The virus infecting her was being analyzed to determine if what Wesker had said was true. There were other reasons as well. She was the first Tyrant that had ever been captured alive and there was a great deal that could be learned from her.

With all the examinations and collecting samples there hadn’t been much conversation, which suited her just fine. Answering questions about what had been done to her was one thing, but she was glad that no one had asked personal questions. No one knew who she was and she wasn’t about to offer that information. It was a matter of retaining what little dignity she had left. Even then it had taken her two days to manage to ask for a new set of clothing to replace the outfit that she’d been wearing when she’d first been brought in. It had been taken from her and no one had thought to offer a replacement. She wasn’t going to hold that against anyone, she was a B.O.W. after all so she couldn’t expect her comfort to be that much of a priority. In the end the best they’d been able to do was a hospital gown that hardly fit, though there was the promise that something better would be found as soon as possible. She could understand that, given her size it wasn’t like they’d have anything in her size laying around.

There were some positive aspects to her situation though, she was slowly being weaned off P30, something that had frightened her at first. She'd been sure that she'd go insane the moment the drug left her system, but the BSAA researchers had reassured her that the instant she showed any signs of trouble they'd increase her dose again. Their logic was that the drug had so little effect at this point that it was probably safer for her to try and get off of it than to deal with the constant mood swings that came with receiving a dose and then having it wear off. So far things had been going better than she'd expected. It was all part of the continuation of the process Wesker had started, the physical and mental changes had stopped and she had to move on to adjusting to them, living with them. It turned out to be far easier than she had expected.

Not being a prisoner helped a great deal. She was no longer prone to blinding rages and she'd mostly lost the compulsion to masturbate. Apparently it had largely been due to stress, much like what happened with captive animals, as one helpful BSAA scientist had told her. She didn't care, she was used to thinking of herself as an animal, a monster. At least now she was something more or less tame.

There was a knock on the door, a welcome interruption to her thoughts before they got the chance to become too morbid.

At least the researchers here were polite.

"Come in," she sighed, not that she had a choice. She wouldn't have refused them no matter the situation, not when she was finally back on the right side of the war, albeit as a captive.

The door slid open, but she didn't turn around. All the researchers in their biocontainment suits looked the same so there was no point in turning around. The majority of them hadn’t even bothered to introduce themselves by name, not that she was surprised by that. At this point she was more or less a living biohazard and though not treated poorly, was treated as such.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

At the sound of the voice her breath caught in her throat. It was Chris, but what was he doing visiting her?

She turned around, expecting him to be in the protective gear as the scientists wore because the danger of her being contagious was too great to risk exposure.

He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"What's going on?" she asked cautiously, not sure what to make of the unannounced visit or his casual attire. Was it possible that he’d come in person to tell her the good news, that Wesker had been mistaken and there was no risk of the virus spreading? Except that wasn’t enough of a reason for him to come.

Of course, he’d come to tell her that, but to also ask questions. By this point Wesker’s labs had likely been searched from top to bottom and, finding no trace of her Chris had come to her for answers. There was only one thing for her to do, lie. She would claim that Jill Valentine was dead, that she’d seen the body, hell, that she’d helped to dispose of it. Yes, that was the easiest way, best to end all false hope for both of them.

"They finished going through the data from the facility," Chris shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, "Wesker kept detailed files."

"Oh," she looked away. So much for dignity, so much for protecting Chris from the truth. The look on Chris’ face, the way he was looking at her made it clear what he meant. Now that the BSAA knew what had happened to her the only question left was how deep they'd burry that information.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Chris’ question caught her off guard.

Without turning to face him she shrugged, “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Jill, I…” Chris trailed off. She didn’t blame him, what was there that he could hope to say to that? Nothing that wasn’t a lie, but he still tried, “I went there looking for you. It wasn’t about stopping Wesker or saving the world, I just needed closure. And now…”

She wasn’t ready for this, not when everything was still such a mess. Maybe in time, but for now she needed to get her own thoughts in order. A change of topic seemed like the best course of action. Hating herself for being such a coward after finally being given the opportunity to be with Chris and tell him the truth about everything she gave it her best shot, "How's Sheva?"

It was the only safe thing she could think of to change the subject. The African agent had, against all logic, seemed fine the last time Jill had seen her. Impressive since she'd been convinced that she'd killed the woman. That she'd been able to get up and help kill Wesker had been a miracle.

Chris cleared his throat, "About as well as can be expected considering..."

"Considering what?" Jill turned to face him, terrified that she was about to hear that she had in fact done permanent damage the woman.

"Wesker wasn't lying, you're contagious," Chris said with a sigh, "They figure she was exposed when you wrapped her in your blankets. The thing is, she probably wouldn't have lived if she hadn't been infected, so she owes you her life."

"She must hate me," Jill groaned, "Believe me, I didn't want to hurt her. I was just so messed up at the time that I couldn't -"

"Stop," Chris interrupted, "Listen to me, please. She doesn't blame you, she's just happy to be alive. Right now she's still being kept under observation and she’s starting to show symptoms, but the prognosis seems good so far. They're using what they've learned from the tests they ran on you and Wesker's files to create a treatment that helps with the mental symptoms at least. She should have a much easier time of things than you did."

"That's..." Jill hesitated, "Good? But if I'm contagious why aren't you..."

She gestured helplessly at him, wondering why Chris was risking exposure unless...

"Don't worry," Chris said quickly when he saw the look on her face, "Remember what Wesker said about half the population being asymptomatic carriers?"

"How can they be sure you're one?" Jill asked terrified that he'd say that it was just a guess based on the fact that he hadn't started turning into a monster yet. At the same time a sort of sick hope was worming its way into her thoughts. What if he wasn’t safe? What if he started to change, go through the same transformation she had? Then they could be together and… She realized that she probably shouldn’t be thinking about that, not when her thoughts were likely to go in directions she didn’t want them to. Once Chris left she was going to ask for a dose of P30.

"Wesker's files," Chris gave her a small smile, "What half of the population was safe was pretty obvious once they started looking into them."

"Good for you and them," Jill said bitterly, "So is this goodbye then? Because you've already said that you know who I am now and I can't expect you to want anything to do with me when -"

"Jill, stop it!" he punched the wall, catching her off guard enough that she stopped so he could continue, "I’m safe because the virus only affects women."

It all made sense in a perverse way. Wesker's talk about the female body being flawed, his desire for a new and superior breed of humanity, his sexuality, combined with his megalomania had all worked together to an utterly horrific end.

"There have already been cases reported in at least two dozen locations across the globe," Chris continued, "We've got teams working with local health authorities and the governments of the different areas to contain the outbreaks and prevent panic, but it's proving hard, especially when it's impossible to detect infected men without a blood tests that still aren't one hundred percent effective and even women don't show symptoms in the early stages of infection."

"So what do we do?" Jill asked, still trying to wrap her head around the fact, that despite his being dead, Wesker had still won.

"Like I said before, we wait and hope," Chris grimaced, then reached out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Barring a miracle I think everyone's going to have a lot to get used to in the future."

"So why did you come to give me the bad news yourself?" Jill put her hand on top of his, trying not to think about how much smaller Chris' hand felt compared to hers, "Not that I'm not glad to see you."

"I figure that now's as good a time as any to start getting used to things," Chris said quietly, "I can't guarantee I'll like it, but I'll try my best. Besides I was sick of being kept alone in quarantine so I used my reputation to get what I wanted. Rank has its privileges you know."

Jill smiled and hugged Chris. There were times when he could be such a goof. He hugged her back and probably because of how she hadn’t had any P30 at all that day, she could feel her cock starting to get hard despite her greater self-control. The way he was pressed up against her Chris must have felt it as well because he pulled back slightly and looked up at her.

"So they weren't kidding when they said..."

"No," Jill laughed nervously, "But other than that things are still, you know, the same down there."

Chris went pale, "That might be more than I can get used to."

Jill tried to hide her disappointment. It would have been too much to ask that he’d still be able to feel anything for her given what she’d become. There was no sense in holding it against him though, at least he was willing to visit her, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say,” he smiled weakly, “Because like I said, I’m going to at least try.”

That was probably the best she could expect and far more than she had hoped, and the way he’d phrased his statement got her thinking.

Then he continued, “Besides if what Wesker said was true, and so far it looks like it is, your…situation isn’t exactly going to be out of the ordinary.”

Yes, there was that too.

Once she figured out how to best ask she was going to find out what he meant by ‘try’. Until then they had a lot of catching up to do.

“So,” she made an attempt at smiling, “I’ve been out of the loop for a long time and have a lot of catching up to do. Fill me in on what’s going on.”

“Alright, let’s see,” Chris looked at her for a moment and then looked away before she could decide what his expression meant. He was smiling though, which was probably a good sign, “Barry’s girl, Moira, finally got a job, working for TerraSave of all things.”

“Really?” Jill smiled at the thought, “A desk job I’m sure. I can’t imagine she’s too happy with that, but why TerraSave?”

“Do you want her version of it or what Claire and I suspect?” Chris laughed.

Jill’s smile grew wider, this was what she needed, normal conversation and since there was no telling how much longer she was going to be kept in quarantine it was likely that there was going to be a lot of opportunity for it and not much else. Previously the situation would have had her anxious and eager for it to be over, to get back to work, but now she was going to try and enjoy it. As things were right now the only thing she had was time, and if it was possible she was going to spend as much of it as she could with Chris. It was too late to make up for all the opportunities that they’d missed, but maybe, if she was lucky, new ones would come up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for Jill and Chris and felt the need to at least try to end things on a more optimistic note for the two of them. After all they've gone through they probably deserve it.


End file.
